


Tense Primroses and Gentle Needles

by Jinxa15



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aziraphale has tattoos, Crowley Curses, Crowley still screams at the plants., Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Meeting, Florist Crowley (Good Omens), He still dresses like a old man though, M/M, More tags and characters to be added once they're fleshed out more, Not Beta Read, Tattoo Artist Aziraphale (Good Omens), Things can be heard between walls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2020-07-23 14:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxa15/pseuds/Jinxa15
Summary: Aziraphale is not the type of man one would expect to run a tattoo parlor. Crowley is not the type of man one would expect to open a flower shop beside Aziraphale's parlor. Sometimes the two can hear what's going on in the other shop. No one would expect the two to be friends, but both would prefer if they could be more than friends.





	1. A Simple Gesture

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote the thing! It took forever, but it got done which is better than it staying stuck in the document bin. 
> 
> I'm still getting back into writing so I'm sorry in advance if things seem weird at points, that's me and my rusty experience. Any spelling or grammar errors, please point them out and I'll work on getting them fixed up.

Crowley was not happy.

Sitting in the center backseat of the taxi, he watched the other cars around him remain rooted in the streets as they all waited for the red lights to turn. Above him, light rain tapped against the roof of the car. The street lights far ahead of the taxi briefly turned green before returning to red far too quickly for it to make any change in the streets.

His teeth gritted together and from behind his sunglasses, his eyes narrowed on the damned lights that he was starting to think were mocking him.

This was not how he had been planning to get around today. If he had it his way he would be in his beloved Bentley, with Queen blasting through the speakers, and he would have a fully charged phone because he would have remembered to plug his charger before going to bed.

Instead, he was boxed up in the taxi that smelled too much like chemical lemon cleaner, stuck in a barely moving traffic, and unable to distract himself with his phone because it was only at nine percent.

He ran a hand through his long red locks, pulling on them out of stress. 

He did not have time for this.

Scooting forward in his seat, he leaned in closer to the older man driving the taxi. “Is there any chance of us getting out of this? I’ve got an appointment I’m late for.” The electrician was waiting for him. He had been the one who woke Crowley up with his phone call after arriving at the shop only to find it locked. He had planned on getting up early, but he had forgotten to set his alarm the night before…and had also forgotten to plug his charger in.

In his defense, the last night had to have been one of his worst nights of the month and of his personal life. It was somewhere between getting kicked out at sixteen and getting arrested for the first time at twenty-two on the list of terrible personal events. He hadn’t expected anything too wild to happen in his late forties, but it did. 

The taxi driver scoffed before looking at Crowley over his shoulder. “Not with this traffic...”

Crowley huffed and sat back into the seat, gritting his teeth as he watched the street lights briefly turn green before turning back to red too quickly. He glanced down at his phone to check the time. They had been stuck for nearly ten minutes. He had already been running late when he was awoken and every moment they spend in this traffic was time he was falling behind with his work.

There was still so much to be done for the shop before the end of the week. 

His leg started bouncing at that thought.

He needed to get everything ready. He was sinking a huge chunk of his savings for this business. Opening the shop had been a dream of his for years, one he once thought to be impossible until he entered his partnership with Anathema Device. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was all going to be worth it just to have something to call their own. For Anathema, it was her chance to break away from her family’s business to make something of her own. For Crowley, it was a new start to the beginning of a semi-quiet life and a way to show off his plants. 

The light turned green again, the taxi turned at the corner, and the traffic seemed to lighten. It made the trip better, but the space around him still kept him on edge.

If he had his Bentley things wouldn’t magically better, but he would at least be in a space he could relax in. He would be blasting Queen rather than the mix of rain tapping above them and news-radio that was softly coming through the speakers of the taxi. He could at least enjoy the worn in driver’s seat instead of the uncomfortably stiff plastic seat. He could at least deal better with traffic if he had the Bentley.

But no…he didn’t have the Bentley. For now, he was stuck in a taxi because some drunken idiot backed up into his car last night and had sent his darling car to the shop. He had never gotten a scratch on the car until that drunken bastard got into his car. Between the dealing with cops, getting his Bentley into the only mechanic he trusted, and having to be on the phone for far too long with insurance agents left him exhausted and too worn out to even try screaming at his plants to help himself relax. Instead, he ended up falling right into bed, still wearing the clothes from his awful night.

All of this could have been avoided if that damn drunk had just not gotten into his car.

“Jackass…” He muttered to himself as the taxi came to a gentle stop.

A huff from the taxi driver caused Crowley to look up. The driver glanced at the redhead in the back from the rearview mirror with a harsh glare. The look caused confusion to spread on Crowley’s face. He brought his attention back to the windshield.

There was an elderly man with a walker crossing the street very, very, slowly… 

Crowley’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. He turned his head away, looking at the window to his side and watching the light rain hit the glass. After a short moment, the taxi started again and continued down the street till it came to a stop in front of a dark empty shop with a young man standing out in front of it with a phone in his hand.

“Thanks for the ride…” Crowley muttered softly before exiting the vehicle. The driver said nothing and quickly took off once the door of the car closes.

The man looked up from his phone. “Mr. Crowley?”

He nodded at the question. “Yes, that’s me.” Crowley said, sticking his hand back into his jacket pocket to pull out a set of keys. “Are you the electrician?” The man nodded at the question. Having his own question answered, Crowley turned his attention to the locked door of the shop.

“Sorry about the wait.” The redhead muttered, keeping his eyes on his keys as he unlocked the door.

Just like the taxi driver, the electrician said nothing. He followed Crowley into the shop and got right to work. Crowley took a deep breath, a little bit of tension fading away from his body. A ping came from his jacket’s pocket. Pulling out his phone he first noticed that the percentage had dropped down to seven and the battery icon had turned red instead of white. The second thing he noticed was a notification from in his massager from Anathema. Her messages came in quickly, not giving Crowley time to read the first messages as two more popped onto his screen.

**Hey, are you okay? I haven’t heard from you since**  
**last night after dropping you off. You didn’t call like**  
**you said you would.**  
  
**Sorry. I was worried. We can talk tonight.**  
  
**How is it going at the shop? I got a phone call from**  
**the electric company. I missed it, but they said you**  
**showed up after they called me.**

A smirk formed on Crowley’s lips. It was at least nice to hear from his friend, even if she was forcing herself into her business partner mode. 

**Just got to the shop**

**Sticking around to help the electrician**

**He may not get everything done**

**Is there any way we can convince him to take care of**  
**everything? We really need to get it all finished before**  
**the end of the week.**

**Its going to cost us**

**Its already going to cost us for the late fee**

**We shouldn’t push the opening back again. We’ve wasted too**  
**much time with the rat issues and I’ve been hyping up our**  
**opening online for the last few weeks.**

Crowley groaned inwardly. He hated it when she was right. He didn’t want to ask the electrician, not after all the trouble he had already caused the man, but he had to. They had pushed their opening back after finding rat infestation after securing the space. The last thing Crowley wanted was to push it back again. He just wanted the shop to be open and to show off how great his plants were.

He looked back to his phone, typing on the screen with one hand quickly.

**Ill see what I can do**

After sending the text he tucked his phone back into his jacket. “Just great…” He muttered to himself before turning his attention to the electrician. “Hey, I’ve got a question for you…” He walked over to the younger man.

This was madness and it wasn’t going to end any time soon. When they got the shop open this bit of madness would end, but a new form of it would soon begin.

**[-X-]**

Somehow nothing went wrong with the electrician. He managed to get everything Crowley needed to be done after he had agreed to pay the extra hour charges. He wasn’t happy about having to spend more money once again, but it got things done. While the electrician worked, Crowley took to putting together the new shelves for the plants.

The electrician didn’t say much though out the hours. Crowley didn’t say anything to encourage a conversation. The electrician’s annoyance was radiating off him and the last thing Crowley wanted was to accidently start some kind of fight with the guy he had already pissed off. So the two, separately, worked in silence, the only sound in the empty shop came from the light howling of the vents and the rain tapping against the windows. Over the quiet hours the rain growing harsher against the glass and street as dark clouds pushed light gray ones away.

By the time the two had finished their respective tasks, the sun was beginning to set and darker clouds were starting to roll in.

The electrician left first, rushing out to his company truck through the rain.

The harsh rain turned brutal the moment Crowley turned away from the locked door, soaking him with the cold rain. Strong wind caused a shiver to run through Crowley’s body. He rushed underneath the awning of the shop beside his shop, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to hold in any kind of warmth for himself. He had not picked a good jacket when he left his flat today though he had been in a rush when he left.

“No, no, shit! Shit, shit, shit!” He shouted to his phone’s blackened screen. He attempted to turn it on again, pressing the button with a little too much pressure. The screen flashed with life briefly only to quickly turn itself back off. “Come on, you stupid-you couldn’t have held out for a little longer?” He gripped the phone in his hand, squeezing it before tucking it into his jacket’s pocket before he crushed it into dust.

His only option was to wait out in the cold for an available taxi to appear. He leaned against the wall of the building, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling his jacket closer as much as he could. Another gust of wind blew by and Crowley shivered.

The window was tinted to a dark brown, making the smooth cursive gold lettering stand out. From the look of the strokes, the letters had been hand-painted on the window.

_The Quill_

He eyed the lettering, trying to see through the dark window and figure out just what it was. He couldn’t see anything though. There was a light behind the window and he could make out some shapes inside, there are some tall and wide objects, but that’s all he can make out.

Just what was this _Quill_? A tiny dusty library? An ancient bookshop? Some hipster café? Just what was it?

He went for his phone but let out an annoyed groan when he did. Right, it was dead. It was annoying how quickly he had forgotten that.

He hadn’t spent much time around the other shops of the street. He had spent most of his time dealing with the problems of his own shop and getting all the plants ready before the grand opening. Anathema had been the one who looked into the area, telling him about many of the shops but he could only remember a few spots she had talked about. There was a pub down the street from his shop that was popular online for its live shows, a small colorful café heading down the other way that severed crepes, and the large park across from the shop. 

Hissing at himself, Crowley turned his back to the window to focus on the streets. He could look into the shop later. Sure he could just go in and see what it was, but he should just wait for a cab to show up, go yell at his plants, and charge his bloody phone before meeting up with Anathema.

The rain pelted against the rubber fabric of the awning above him and the sidewalk beside him. Cars passed by on the streets and occasionally an occupied taxi would pass by. Crowley huffed as he watched the cars

A soft voice broke through the rain beating down above him.

“Hello.” Crowley tilted his head to look over his shoulder, wondering where the voice had come from. Standing in the doorway shop behind him was a platinum-blond haired man with light sky-blue eyes, smiling gently at Crowley.

“Um…hello.” The redhead turned to face the blond completely, straightening his back and tucking his phone into his jacket’s pocket. “Can I help you with something?”

“I was actually wondering if I could help you.” The blond explained. He pulled the door into the shop so he could step out more, allowing Crowley to get a full look at the blond man. He was chubby but his clothes fit him well. He was dressed in cream pants, a long sleeve light blue button-up shirt, a vest that matched his pants, and a strangely adorable tartan cream bowtie. The stranger struck a perfect balance between casual and classic.

“You were shouting at your phone and you’ve been standing out here for a while. I was starting to worry.”

Crowley shook himself out of the thought, a blush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. “Oh. Um…sorry about that…” He hadn’t really thought about the scene he had caused just a few minutes ago. It wasn’t the first he time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was embarrassing to know the stranger had caught him throwing his fit. “My phone died and I was just trying to stay out of the rain till a taxi pops up…or if the rain clears up.”

The moment the words left his mouth a roar of thunder droned above them.

Crowley sneered up at the sky. “Seriously?”

The stranger giggled, causing Crowley to turn his attention back to the blond. “Well, if that is the case…” He stepped back, pulling the door of the shop in with him. “…Would you like to come in and charge your phone? I’ve just made a pot of tea.”

Crowley pressed his lips before shrugging. A cup of tea was sounding perfect right now and getting to charge his phone was an offer he couldn’t refuse. “That doesn’t sound too bad.” He said. The blond smiled and stepped back into the shop, allowing Crowley to take hold of the door to follow him into the shop. “The name’s Crowley.”

“A pleasure I’m Aziraphale Fell.” The man introduced.

“Azira…phil…?” He said slowly, the strange name rolling over his tongue as he tried to say it correctly. It sounded old, maybe biblical, maybe it made-up. Either way, it was a strange name.

He looked over the shop. There were bookshelves full of worn in books, framed pictures covering most of the space on the walls, and vintage couches with faded fabric. There was a counter not far from the door with a vintage cash register on top of the counter and an electric gooseneck tea kettle. There were two brown teacups sitting on saucers beside the kettle. Further in the back, there was a door and close to in were cream floral curtains strung up between two bookshelves, keeping a part of the shop blocked off.

Crowley turned his attention back to Aziraphale, who was filling the two teacups with water. “What is this place?”

Aziraphale looked up at him, his smile growing a little bit. “It’s a tattoo parlor.” The blond said. From behind his glasses, Crowley’s eyes widened. This man, who could easily be mistaken for an elementary school teacher or a librarian, owed a tattoo parlor. Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice the look on Crowley’s face, probably because of the sunglasses, and handed the teacup to the other man. “Do you want milk or sugar?”

“No thank you.” Crowley shook his head, trying to force his shock away as he took the teacup by its saucer.

Aziraphale nodded and pulled a packet of sugar and phone charger out of a drawer behind the counter, walking over to a lodging area and sitting in a loveseat near a coffee table. Crowley followed him and sat the couch beside the loveseat.

“So…this is all yours?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale plugged the charger into the wall. He handed the cord to Crowley and he plugged his phone into the cord, setting it down beside him. He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, bending his elbow so he could brush his fingers against the small tattoo near his ear.

He had gotten it when he was much younger after many bottles of alcohol. It at least looked better than the one he got on his back after many more bottles of alcohol.

An itching sensation comes over his right shoulder blade, reminding him of the image on his back he had permanently inked into his skin.

“Yes, it is. We’ve been going on for nine years.” A proud smile formed on Aziraphale’s lips.

Crowley smiled from his spot on the couch. There was something about this man that Crowley found interesting.

“I have to say, I wouldn’t have expected someone like you to be a tattoo artist.” A smile formed on the redhead’s lips.

Aziraphale nodded at Crowley’s statement. “I get that a lot.” He said, setting the saucer and teacup down on the coffee table. He turned his body to face Crowley, putting his hands together and setting them in his lap. “It’s quite funny to get walk-in’s who aren’t expecting me to greet them.” He laughed softly at his words. “The younger patrons are always the funniest. More so when they’re drunk and I convince them this is a bookshop.”

“I can imagine…” Crowley nodded along. He could imagine how most young customers would be confused by Aziraphale’s appearance. “What are the customers like around here? I’m opening the shop next-door with my friend and you’re the first person I met around here.” Crowley asked, wondering just what he should be expecting from the customers around here.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose at Crowley’s question. “You’re the one opening the shop next-door?”

Crowley nodded at the question. “Yep, I’m opening it with my business partner. It’s going to be a flower shop.”

“A flower shop?” Aziraphale stared at him, and after Crowley nodded, a smirk formed on the blond man’s lips. “…I wouldn’t have expected that.” He said before taking another sip of his tea.

Crowley let out a laugh, tossing his head against the couch. Yep, he liked this guy.

“I guess I’ll have to get used to that statement…” He brought his head back up to smile at the blond.

“It gets easier after a while…after a few hundred times.” Aziraphale said with a shrug before taking a sip of his tea. “When are you opening your shop?”

“It’s going to be ready in by the end of the week.” A grin spread across his face. He couldn’t wait to get the plants out of their storage where he could take care of them until the shop was ready. He planned on putting all his plants in the shop the night before the big opening, setting everything up to show off the best plants. It was going to be great.

“You seem rather calm for opening a shop at the end of the week.” Aziraphale said and Crowley let out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, I’m stressing…but good at pretending I’m fine. I’ll be screaming at my plants later tonight.” He said casually before taking another sip of his tea.

Aziraphale let out a giggle. The light laugh sent a shiver up Crowley’s back. It was a rather sweet laugh and it brought a smile to Crowley lips. 

“Why would you yell at your plants?” Aziraphale asked, still giggling like a child trying to keep themselves from bursting out into a loud laugh.

Crowley kept his smile up and shrugged. “It makes them grow better.”

Aziraphale’s giggles to turn into a full warm laugh at Crowley’s response. Crowley smiled softly at the other man just watching him laugh. He looked quite lovely when he was laughing. He probably wouldn’t find it funny if Crowley knew he was serious about the plant thing though...

Crowley’s smile fell and he looked away, coughing to clear his throat. “Is it just you running this place?” He asked, focusing on the framed photos around the shop’s walls.

The photos were of finished tattoo and Crowley assumed that they were all done by Aziraphale. They were all beautiful, full of color and details that must have taken hours of work to complete. Most were large tattoos, on someone’s arm, legs, or on their back, but there were some photos of small tattoos scattered around on the walls.

“Well, sort of…I have my assistant, Newton, but he’s off visiting his aunt and uncle for a while so I am on my own for a few days.” Crowley turned his attention back to Aziraphale as he spoke, watching the other man speak from behind his sunglasses. “It’s interesting being on my own. Not much to do without him around.”

“What do you do exactly when you don’t have customers?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, staring off for a moment and brushing the tips of his fingers against each other. “Sorry…I haven’t been in a parlor for years and last time I was...”

“It had been after too many beers?” Aziraphale asked, laughing as a smile returned to his lips.

Laughing, Crowley nodded. He looked back to the blond. “How often do you get that?”

“It happens more often on Fridays or Saturdays. I turn them away but give them a card in case they want to come back when they’re sober.” Aziraphale giggled softly before taking another sip of his tea.

Setting the cup back down on its saucer, he tilted his head to look at Crowley. “It’s not a problem to ask, I just had to think about it for a moment. Most days I work on projects for my other clients or set up meetings with them before I start working on their tattoos. If I don’t have a client things end up kind of blurring together for me while I’m working. I’ve even forgotten to sleep when I get too involved with a project.”

Crowley stared at the man from behind his sunglasses, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Do you always put a lot of work into everything you do?”

Aziraphale was quiet again for a moment and this was different from the look before. He looked back down at his teacup. He just stared at it before looking back up, a small smile forming on his lip. It was very different from the smile Crowley had seen on the man’s face before. “It only happens when I enjoy what I’m doing.”

Aziraphale straightened up and turned his attention back to Crowley. “Enough about me…I’m curious about how you got into taking care of plants.”

“I just…kind of got into it a few years ago after I got given a plant.” Crowley shrugged, shifting in the couch. It had started with someone else giving him a plant and him taking his anger out on it. “I started taking care of it, enjoyed it, and it just… _bloomed_ into a huge hobby.”

Aziraphale let out a long sigh and Crowley let out another laugh.

“Thank god Newton isn’t here…” Aziraphale muttered. 

“What? Can’t take a little pun-ishment here and there?” Crowley asked, still laughing. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, though a smile was growing on his face as Crowley continued to laugh at his own joke.

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a ping. The two looked to Crowley’s phone that had been silent up until now. Crowley picked up the phone, unlocking it quickly to find a text from Anathema open for him.

**Hey. How did things with the electrician go? I got**  
**a call from the company saying we had to pay the**  
**additional fee for the extra hours. Is everything in**  
**the shop working now?**

Shit, he forgot about Anathema. Glancing at the clock in the corner he realized how much time had passed as their dinner was in an hour.

“I’m sorry to cut this off, but I promised to meet my friend for dinner tonight.” He stood up, unplugging his phone from the charger. He took the charger out of the wall, handing it back to Aziraphale. “Thanks for the tea and letting me stay out of the cold Azif-Aziravi-oh come on!” Crowley’s face flushed and he gritted his teeth with frustration. Why of all the times he could be getting tongue-tied, was it happening now?

Aziraphale simply giggled at Crowley’s frustration. “It’s okay, I have heard way worse.”

“Hang on. I got it now.” Crowley took a deep breath, closing his eyes behind his sunglasses and calming himself. He opened them and turned his attention back to Aziraphale. “Thank you for the tea Angel.”

That sent a soft red blush to spread across Aziraphale’s cheeks at Crowley’s words.

Crowley’s smile returned. Now that was a sight he liked.

“You’re welcome.” The blushing blond looked away and turned his attention to the teacups on the coffee table. Picking up the teacups, he turned his attention back to Crowley. “You’re opening your shop on Saturday, right?” He asked, a light redness still tinting his cheeks.

“Yeah… Is there any way I can tempt you into coming?”

Aziraphale tapped his fingers against his lips, a sly smile forming. “We’ll see…”

Crowley let out a laugh and stepped back, still smiling at Aziraphale. “Have a good night Angel.”

“Enjoy your evening, my dear.” Aziraphale waved to the other man before he turned and headed out of the door.

Outside of the shop the rain had lightened into a light drizzle and the sun had begun setting. He spotted an available taxi, waving it down. Climbing into the back seat, he gave the driver the address to Anathema’s flat and pulled his phone out as the taxi began going down the street.

**Hey**

**Sorry for the wait**

**Things are working fine**

**Got caught in the rain**

**Met an Angel today**

**Well it’s good to hear from you. Now I have several**  
**questions about this “Angel” you’ve met.**

**Ill tell you later**

**I’m holding you to that.**

Crowley smirked to himself, tucking the phone back into his jacket’s pocket. Tilting his head, he looked out the window of the taxi, thinking about a pair of sky-blue eyes and the strange man they belonged to the whole drive.


	2. A Wall Between Rooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone... I know this has been a long wait and there hadn't been any responses from me. I had planned for this to be up much sooner, but I didn't like where the chapter ended up going the first time so it got rewritten, and then I started having issues with my work, and than I made the mistake of buying a Switch and started playing FE3H. There's not much else to say other than I'm really sorry for the long wait and I hope that you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> And I need to give a big thank you to everyone who commented and left a kudos. It helped me get back to writing this even when I was struggling with it.

It was quite a lovely day in the park. If it were any other day, Aziraphale may have been enjoying it more. He could be feeding the ducks or sketching one of the birds picking at leftover crisps on the ground, maybe even a squirrel if he managed not to scare them off. 

Instead of enjoying the peaceful sunny afternoon, he was staring down at the open sketchbook resting against the back of his crossed leg and tapping the pen in his right hand against his lips.

He stared at the small designs on the page, pressing his lips. They were all minimalistic, straight lines varying in thickness with little to no designs. The few designs around the crowns were small dots or extra lines added around to stylize the lines more. Some were rather cartoonish with thick lines or colored in to be all black.

There was no color, few details, and none of his signature style.

Minimalism was not his preferred style. He preferred to work on bigger projects, ones he could fill with colors and details that suited their owner well. He took great pride and care into the work he did. That was why most of his clients came to him. 

Minimalism did not suit him. It didn’t suit Newton either, though it was one style the young man was more skilled at then Aziraphale. It wasn’t something either of them would do if it wasn’t for a close client with a very specific idea in mind.

That was what Pollution had and minimalism suited Pollution.

They had not come to him with a large and colorful idea he could shape. They came to him with a small and simple request.

They wanted a crown for their middle finger.

Not a detailed, colorful, or traditional crown. They wanted a very simple crown, just some simple lines with simple details.

It was such a small and easy request, it was a request from someone he would call a friend, and it was a request that was driving Aziraphale insane.

He pressed the pen’s end cap against his clammed lips. His eyes narrowed on the drawings in front of him. None of them looked right. The lines didn’t match others, some dots were bigger compared to others, and all of the designs were so…simple. None of them looked right, none of them stood out to him, and every nerve in his hand wanted to use the pen to scribble over the crowns or tear the page out to start something new.

Aziraphale’s lips unclamped as he let out a sigh. “…I should at least show them what I’ve got. Maybe Pollution can give me a better idea.” He said to himself, trying to calm his own nerves.

He closed the sketchbook and put it away in his worn-out leather massager before standing up from the park bench. He rolled his stiff shoulders before pulling his bag over them. He turned and began making his way through the park to its exit.

The walk did little to calm his worries about the drawings in his bag.

It wasn’t often he found himself stumped with ideas.

He continued his walk, crossing the street. As he continued he noticed the people around him and what they were carrying. Many were carrying potted plants.

Several people were carrying different varieties of plants. Most were small plants, ones that would likely grow larger if taken care of by their new owners. The leaves were varying in many shades of green, soft light green leaves, others being shiny dark green. What was most striking about the plants being carried around were their blooming flowers.

He rounded the corner towards his shop and found that more people were carrying potted plants out of a shop.

A shop that was right beside his.

Was the shop finally open? It had to be by now. He had heard something going on from behind the wall of his office the night before but he had thought nothing of it at the time. He hadn’t thought much of the shop beside his since he heard someone moving into it for the last few weeks. He didn’t know anything about the shop until he met the redhead a few days ago. The one called…

“…Crowley.” He murmured the name softly, suddenly remembering the loud handsome redhead wearing sunglasses and dressed all in black with who he had tea with just a few days ago. He had told him about his shop opening…and who had asked him if he would be visiting it.

Aziraphale steps came to a stop in front of his own shop at the thought that passed through his mind. He hadn’t promised that he would be visiting the shop and he really should work on Pollution’s tattoo more. He had to meet them tomorrow after all and it would be best to have something ready for them that he at least felt some-what confident about. He really should just get back to his work.

“I should at least stop by and say hi. After all, we’re going to be neighbors…” The blond said to himself, turning on the heel of his shoe towards the shop next-door.

The windows were big and clear, showing off everything inside of the store. The door of the shop was glass and clear and there was tall black lettering stickered onto the other side of the door.

_**Eden’s Competition** _

A giggle escaped Aziraphale’s lips before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it. It was such a bold statement to make and an even bolder move to name one’s shop after.

With a smile on his face, he pulled the door open and stepped inside.

The inside of the store was very modern. The walls were gray with a stone-like texture and the shelves holding the plants were steel black. Despite the dark walls and furniture, the lighting above was warm and the plants around the shop popped against the dark colors.

It was a strange shop, with its almost dungeon-like walls and bright beautiful flowers.

It was like something out of a fairy tale.

Aziraphale’s smile grew a little more as he walked around the shop, scanning the people around him and admiring the plants.

There were still customers in the store and there was a dark-skinned young woman with glasses working at a blocky black counter in front of a register helping another customer.

There was however no sign of Crowley. 

Well…that was fine. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see the redhead again. He would probably run into him at some point, maybe in passing, but that would probably be it.

The artist turned his attention away from the people, focusing on the potted primroses stored on a nearby shelve. There were so many with so many bright and beautiful colors. He continued to stare at them, studying the fades between the colors and the softness of the petals. It wasn’t the first time he had studied plants for the sake of his work, but it was good to restudy to see where improvements could be made. 

“Hello sir.” It was the girl from the counter. She wore a light blue turtleneck blouse with lacey sleeves and a long dark blue skirt. Over her clothes was a black apron with a purple witch hat pin on one of the straps by her shoulder. “I’m Anathema, can I assist you with anything?” She introduced herself with a small smile on her lips. 

“Oh, hello Ms. Anathema.” He smiled at her and held out of his hand. “I’m Aziraphale Fell.”

Her smile softened a little at the gesture. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Aziraphale.” She took his hand and shook it before pulling back to push her thick-framed glasses upon her nose. “So…how did you hear about our little shop?”

“Oh, well…I knew about the shop as soon as you started moving in. Well, I didn’t know it was a flower shop.” He admitted. “I actually met Mr. Crowley a few days ago.”

“You’ve already met Crowley?” One of Anathema’s eyebrows rose as she spoke.

Aziraphale nodded at her question. “I just met him a few days ago when he was screaming outside of my shop.”

Anathema’s eyes widened a little at his words. She blinked twice before speaking. “You have a shop?”

Aziraphale’s smile widened at her question. “I run the shop next-door.”

Her jaw fell at his words.

Aziraphale had to hold back his giggles. He enjoyed reactions like this far too much. The shocked look on her face was just so amusing. The looks people would give him whenever they met him in person for the first time always were.

It had been strange when he was getting started, especially when he was trying to be taken seriously within his profession, but now he had his artwork and clients to back him up.

“Wait…you’re-”

“Hello Angel.” The two turned their attention to the voice that pipped up from behind Anathema. It was Crowley. His long hair was pulled back into a bun. He was dressed in all black again and wearing an apron that matched the one Anathema’s just missing a pin on it. He still had his sunglasses on and there was a green spray bottle in the pocket of his apron. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show…”

Aziraphale smiled smugly at the other man. “Well, I didn’t quite promise I would show up.”

“It was close enough to a yes.” The redhead shrugged. He glanced at him to his coworker before turning his attention back to the blond. “I see you’ve met Anathema. How’s she treating you?”

“Quite well.” Aziraphale turned his attention back to the young woman. “I was just starting to tell her about my shop.”

Anathema recovered from her shock and looked Aziraphale up and down. “I will admit I’m rather surprised to know you’re the tattoo artist.”

That brought a smirk to Aziraphale’s lips.

“Well, I am. I’ve got to admit though; I’m surprised you’ve already heard of me.” He said, wondering just how Anathema knew about his profession.

“Crowley talked quite a bit about you…” Anathema explained, eyeing Crowley from the corner of her eye. Crowley was looking at her, frowning, but the rest of his face was unreadable due to his sunglasses. “…Though he kept calling you Angel.”

Crowley let out a sound, almost like a hiss, and turned his attention to the primroses. “Hey Ema, it looks like those customers are ready for checkout.” He said, keeping his head turned towards the plants in front of him. He pulled the spray bottle out of his apron and began spraying a mist of water over the plants.

Anathema sighed but her smile remained. “Fine, fine... It was nice to meet you Aziraphale.”

“It was nice to meet you as well Ms. Anathema.” Aziraphale waved her off as she made her way back to the counter to help a waiting couple.

“I’m surprised you came by.” The blond turned his attention back to Crowley. The redhead was kneeling in front of the steel shelf, checking over the primroses in the back while looking up at Aziraphale from over his shoulder.

Aziraphale shrugged at the other man’s words. “I wasn’t planning on it, but kept seeing your lovely flowers pass me by and I decided I had to at least stop by.” He smiled down at Crowley. “So you told your friend about me?”

Crowley said nothing but the tips of his ears turned a light shade of red. “Well…it was talk about the tattoo artist with a strange name or recounting what it took to convince an electrician to work overtime.” He coughed lightly, still keeping his eyes on the plants in front of him. 

Aziraphale hummed to himself, tearing his attention away Crowley to scan the other shelves around them. There were still many plants all around the shop, but there were some large empty spaces where some plants had once been. “So are these all the plants you have?”

Crowley shook his head at the question. “No, there’s more in the back.” He kneeled to the lower half of the shelf. “I need a little more fear in them before I can put them out.”

“Do you have to yell at them more?” Aziraphale asked, thinking back on their last conversation.

Crowley laughed at the blonde’s words. “Well of course. I’ve got to make sure they know the consequences of not trying hard enough.” He shifted the plants around, pulling some pots out from behind the others to spray them with water.

“Why is this one out?”

Aziraphale looked back to Crowley. The redhead pulled a pot out from the back of the steel shelf. It was another pot of light pink primroses. Its flowers were smaller than the other potted primroses, some hadn’t even bloomed yet. It wasn’t like the others, it needed a little more love and care, but it was still a pretty plant and its color was so lovely. It would look perfect in his apartment if he were any good at taking care of plants.

A soft smile spread across his lips. He had tried with plants, many times, and every plant ended up in his yard waste bid by the end of the month. Taking care of plants just didn’t work out no matter how much research he did into the plant or how he cared for it. If he could he would just ask Newton to look after the plant, but the boy was just as bad at taking care of plants like him. 

“This was supposed to get tossed.”

Crowley’s words pulled Aziraphale put from his thoughts. His smile dropped and his eyes widened as he turned his head to look at the other man. “Why?”

Crowley sneered at the plant in his hand. “It’s hideous! I can’t have something like this out on the floor. What will people say if they see this?”

“That it’s a very nice plant and it would look lovely in my flat.” Aziraphale stated before he had another moment to think about his words. The words had slipped out before he could consider just what he was saying.

Crowley threw back his head with a laugh. “Who would say something like that?”

“I just did.”

Crowley’s laughing was cut off by Aziraphale’s words

“What?” The redhead looked back at the blond. The other man just smiled at the redhead, holding his attention while the tattoo artists’ hand slipped under to grip the bottom of the pot. He slipped the pot down and out of Crowley’s hand before he turned on his shoe’s heel, quickly stepping over to the counter. “Wait!”

Aziraphale ignored Crowley’s cry as he made his way over to Anathema. Setting the pot on the gray surface he smiled at Anathema. “I would like to purchase this plant.”

He may as well commit himself to this plant if he was going to make such a fuss about it.

Crowley scurried his way over to the counter, trying to stop the transaction. “There are better ones…” The words hissed out from his lips.

Aziraphale looked to Crowley, pouting softly. “But I like this one.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, somewhat unreadable due to his sunglasses. “…Why?”

“It’s pretty and I don’t want you to throw it away.”

Crowley looked shocked by Aziraphale’s words. His jaw hung open as his head bounced between looking at the plant and looking at Aziraphale. “But it’s not good…”

Aziraphale simply shrugged. “I don’t care.”

Crowley pressed his lips, looking like he was holding in a scream of some kind.

“Just let it go Crowley…” Anathema sighed, reminding Crowley and Aziraphale of her presence. The two older men looked to the young woman. She had crossed her arms at some point and shifted her body to Crowley’s direction. “It’s one plant. You’ve got plenty more to scream at still.”

Anathema’s words caused a blond eyebrow to rise. Aziraphale looked at the two, wondering why the joke of Crowley yelling at plants kept popping up. It was just a joke, right? Why would anyone yell at plants, especially ones as beautiful as Crowley’s plants were?

Crowley let out a dramatic and loud groan before sighing. After having his moment, the redhead turned his attention back to Aziraphale. “Are you going to be keeping it inside?”

Aziraphale nodded at the question. It wasn’t like he had any yard space for him to plant it outside.

Crowley nodded and reached into the pocket of his apron that was not being used to holster his spray bottle. After a moment of digging around, he pulled out a small notebook and pen. “You’ll need to keep it by a large window, one that gets lots of light. It should be kept at room temperature, it should only be watered when the soil is dry, and the buds will need to be plucked when they start to wilt or darken.” Crowley began to scribble down into the notebook as he spoke.

After finishing his informative ramble, he tore the page out of the book. He handed the page with the list of necessities scribbled on it. “It will last for about six months, but can last a little longer if given proper care.”

Aziraphale looked at the note and smiled as he took it. “Thank you very much for your advice.” Hopefully, it would come in handy in helping him keep the plant alive.

A soft red flush spread across the redhead’s cheeks. “You’re welcome…” He muttered softly. He coughed roughly and looked back to Anathema. “I’ll be in the back if you need me, Ema.” He said quickly, making his way around the counter and through a door marked with the sign: **EMPLOYEES ONLY.**

“Is he always like that?” He asked as she rung the plant up on her touch-screen register.

“For as long as I’ve known him.” Anathema nodded. “He can be sweet when he forgets about his tough-guy act.” She tapped into the screen and turned it for Aziraphale to read the digital receipt. He swiped his debit card and Anathema printed out a small receipt for him. “Thanks for coming in Aziraphale. It was nice to meet you.”

Aziraphale smiled, picking his newly purchased plant up from the counter. “Thank you Anathema. If you would…do you mind telling Crowley good-bye for me?”

A sly grin spread across Anathema’s face. “I can do that for you.”

“Thank you. Have a good day.” He waved good-bye before turning to leave the shop.

He made the very short walk to his own shop, unlocking the door before locking it again. He didn’t have any clients today, and he didn’t plan on doing any walk-ins. He needed to focus on getting his designs ready for his meeting with Pollution tomorrow. “Welp…should get you to a window.” He said to the plant in his hands.

As he headed up the stairs, he didn’t even notice the muffled voice coming from behind the door of his back office. 

**[-X-]**

Pollution arrived early the next day.

“It’s wonderful to see you again Pollution.” Aziraphale carried a tray with two cups of steaming tea on it into his office. Setting the tray on the coffee table, he picked up the cup with a spoon in it. “Extra sugar, as promised.” He handed the cup to Pollution.

“Thanks.” They smiled as they took the cup, speaking softly. Pollution had already made themselves comfortable on the couch. “It’s nice to see you too.”

Pollution was always a strange sight given they dressed in mostly white clothing that always had some strange stains on the fabric from God only knows what. He had asked War and Famine once, but neither of the two knew what the stains had come from or why there were so many of them.

“How’s the bar doing?” Aziraphale asked, pushing away his questions of the stains.

“It’s good. The renovations are almost finished. War says hi by the way.” Pollution shrugged before taking a sip of her tea. “She wants me to try and convince you to come to the bar next weekend.”

“Band night again?” Pollution nodded at his question. The bar could be an intense atmosphere. He preferred to visit the bar during the day when he had the time. It was much calmer during the day than it normally was at night. “I’ll think about it, but if she shows up to drag me out again I’m not going.”

Aziraphale took a sip from his mug and set it down on his desk. He picked up the sketchbook he had laid out earlier and began flipping through it to find “…Alrighty. Let’s get down to business.”

A chuckle escaped Pollution’s lips. “To defeat the Huns?”

He stopped flipping through the pages to let out a long sigh. “…And now that’s going to be stuck in my head all day.”

A cheeky grin spread on Pollution’s lips. “You’re welcome.” They stuck their hand in their pocket, digging through it, and pulling out a piece of hard candy in its wrapper. Unwrapping the treat, they stuck the candy in their mouth and stuffed the wrapper back into their pocket where several others were already gathered.

Aziraphale decided not to comment on the growing horde of plastic in Pollution’s hoodie. “So, here’s what I came up with and I would like your opinion on some of them.” He handed the open sketch-book to the page he had put most of the finished designs illustrated on.

Pollution took the book, pulling their legs onto the couch. Sitting cross-legged, they set the sketch-book on leaning over to 

Pollution was like War, Famine, or Death. Of the four, they were always the quietest. The other three could be direct and straight forward. Pollution could be like that as well, though they needed a moment to gather their thoughts before they spoke. 

Aziraphale let Pollution be as they stared at the page. He picked up one of the nearby books he had been reading through, opening it and picking up on the chapter he had left off on. He only got a page into the chapter before a sound came from Pollution.

Placing his bookmark back in the book, Aziraphale set it aside and leaned forward in his chair. “Are there any that stand out?” 

“I think-”

_“I cannot believe the utter failure I see before me!”_

Aziraphale jolted in his seat, hitting his desk and knocking several small items over. Pollution’s back straightened up and the sketchbook fell to the ground between Aziraphale’s feet. The two stared at each other, shock still sinking in at the sudden voice that was still screaming.

_“It is pathetic! I have taken you in! Cared for you! And this is how you repay me!?”_

The voice was coming from behind the wall and it sounded a lot like Crowley’s voice. 

“Um…” Aziraphale stared at the wall, unsure of what to do. Just what in the name of God was going-

There was a loud crash.

“I’ll be right back.” Aziraphale was out of his seat and had one leg through his office’s doorway by the time the words left his mouth. He couldn’t stop the thoughts rushing through his head. Something bad must have been happening next-door, and he would not simply stand-by and ignore it.

A younger him would simply try to ignore the problem, Gabriel would tell him that it wasn’t his place to get involved. Now he was old, away from Gabriel, and he wouldn’t ignore something when there was a problem.

“Okay.” Pollution was still staring at the wall like it was an art piece. As the yelling continued, a smile formed on their lips. At least they found the situation entertaining.

Aziraphale’s steps were brisk as he made his way out of his shop’s front door and onto the sidewalk. It was early enough that

The shop was empty. There were bare spaces on the shelves where other plants had once been and some black wire plant hangers were hanging down from the ceiling. Those had not been there during his first visit to the shop.

“Aziraphale?” He turned in the direction of the voice and found himself looking up at Anathema. She was standing on a tall standing latter, holding a plant with long thin leaves, and shaking slightly as she tried to put the plant into the hanger.

“Hello, sorry to barge in like this.” He said quickly. He looked around the room, trying to see just where the screaming could be coming from. “Where’s Crowley?”

“In the back…?” Anathema glanced over at the door behind the counter. The one with the employee’s only sign. Aziraphale nodded at her words and began making his way towards the door behind the counter. “Wait! Aziraphale!” Anathema called out but he didn’t look back as he stepped through the doorway into a storage area with shelves full of tools and storage boxes.

Just where was Crowley?

“I took you in!”

Oh, there he was.

Aziraphale turned his attention to another door to the right where Crowley’s voice could be heard much clearer than it had been from behind the wall.

“I looked after you! Cared for you! And you give me nothing in return?!”Aziraphale pushed the door open and was greeted by a room full of plants. One was on the floor, dirt spread out from a broken black pot that had been stepped through. Crowley was standing in the center of the room, holding a different potted plant, with his sunglasses missing from his face. “Of course, after all the time and work I put into you…betray me like this!” The redhead continued his rant, not even noticing the other man in the room.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale raised his voice in an attempt to be heard by the raging redhead. “What in the name of God are you doing?”

Crowley looked at him, bright gold-brown (closer to yellow) eyes were sharp and full of rage. Aziraphale stiffened, fear quickly overtaking his anger. Crowley stormed towards him and all Aziraphale could do was stand there as his legs were frozen

“Yelling at this newly converted ficus lyrata!”

Between the stiffening fear, the confusion that drove him here, and a random but small spike of titillation, Aziraphale was at a loss for words. He simply stared, blinking back into Crowley's strange eyes while the other man continued to glare at the plant in his hand.

It took a moment but he managed to form one word.

“…What?”

“Just look at it!” Crowley thrust the plant into Aziraphale’s face. The leaves brushing against his nose, causing him to step back. He noticed that there were two, maybe three, holes in the leaves that he could only see because it had been shoved into his face. “It may as well be a catholic with how holey it is!” Crowley pulled the plant away, shaking the pot like he was trying to choke it. “I hope you enjoy being baptized by fire!”

Aziraphale watched the sight before him in stunned silence as the realization set it.

Crowley was yelling at the plant.

It hadn’t been a joke.

Crowley did yell at the plants.

Aziraphale could only watch the redhead shout at the plant before he turned his attention to another one, going off on a new string of complaints against the poor thing while sprinkling a small number of curses thrown in.

Crowley shook the plant, hissing at it before setting it down roughly. He paced around the room, rubbing his eyes. He stepped through the broken plant on the ground and spread more dirt and broken pot pieces around the room. He was muttering softly, seemingly to forget he wasn’t alone in the room.

The blond coughed lightly, clearing his throat before speaking. “So…you weren’t joking when you said you yelled at your plants…”

Crowley steps stopped. He looked to Aziraphale and his eyes widened when they landed on the blond. His jaw dropped and hung open. It was as if he was noticing Aziraphale for the first time like he didn’t remember shoving an (apparently) catholic plant in his face.

A light red blush spread across his cheeks “…No…” He answered sheepishly. He dug a hand into his apron, pulling out the sunglasses he had been wearing when they met last time. He coughed roughly before speaking. “How long have you been standing there?” He asked, putting his glasses back on and hiding his eyes away from Aziraphale.

“Long enough…” Aziraphale answered. Silence filled the room as the two men shifted in their spots. “So…yelling makes them grow better?” Aziraphale broke the silence with his question, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Crowley wouldn’t look at him. He kept his head tilted down at the floor. “Yep…”

Aziraphale pressed his lips at Crowley’s answer. This was not what he was expecting to find when he got over here, but it was better than the scenarios that started rushing through his head when he heard the crash against the wall.

“Well…if it works, it works.” He shrugged, adjusting his vest. Crowley looked to Aziraphale, one eyebrow raised out of confusion. “Unfortunately, I have made the discovery that my office is right on the other side of this wall and I can hear you from the other side. And so can my client…”

Crowley was silent at Aziraphale’s statement, taking a moment to open and close his mouth before finding his words again. “…What?”

“Pollution?” Aziraphale called out in a sing-song tone.

 _“Yeah?”_ Pollution’s replay came out from behind the wall. Their muffled voice wasn’t as loud or as clear as Crowley’s had been when the shouting first started, but it could still be heard.

A smile formed on Aziraphale’s face. “Say hi to Crowley.”

_“Hi to Crowley.”_

That caused the smile to drop and for the blond to let out a sigh. That had to be War’s doing. Maybe it was Death’s. “Little brat…” He muttered softly to himself, shooting a look at the wall quickly. He turned his attention back to Crowley. “And now you’ve met Pollution. We were having a meeting when we heard about your disappointment over the plant conversion.” 

Crowley stared at the wall. His mouth kept opening and closing for a moment. “Oh...shit...” He turned to look at Azirphale, jaw hanging open once again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s okay. It was just…very shocking.” Aziraphale cut Crowley off before he could continue. “I thought something was wrong so I rushed over here.” He explained, his face beginning to heat with embarrassment at his reaction. 

“Well, I’m not trying causing any kind of trouble this time. It seems I just can’t escape doing so.” Crowley sighed. He ran his hands through his hair, shaking them and causing a mess of his red locks before pulling them away.

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak when the door behind him slammed against the wall causing both men to jump. They turned their attention to the doorway where a red-faced and frazzled Anathema stood staring back at them. There was one of the wire black plant hangers resting over her shoulders and it had somehow become tangled in her curly locks. “Aziraphale…what are you doing here?”

“Well you see I was sitting in my office-”

 _“Hey, Aziraphale.”_ Pollution called out from behind the wall.

Anathema’s eyes widened and she turned her attention to the wall. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Pollution.” Aziraphale said simply.

Anathema’s head snapped back to the older blond man with a look of confusion on her face. “…Who?”

“My client.” He explained simply before turning his attention to the wall. “Pollution, this is Anathema.”

 _“Hello.”_ Pollution spoke up, still listening in on the conversation.

“What kind of a name is Pollution?” Crowley asked suddenly.

 _“It’s my name!”_ Pollution sounded more annoyed.

Crowley turned his attention back to the wall. “How did you get a name like that?”

 _“I chose it!”_ Pollution’s voice was growing more agitated as this continued.

Anathema let out a loud groan. “Why are we talking through the wall?” She asked, removing the plant hanger around her shoulders and untangling it from her hair.

“Well, you see we were in my office, going over tattoo ideas that I have been working on for Pollution since last week when they came to me and-”

 _“Aziraphale…”_ Pollution called out and interrupting Aziraphale. _“I hate to interrupt your ramble, but I would like to get my tattoo today before War comes looking for me.”_

“Oh, right. I’ll be right back over.” Aziraphale nodded at the wall. He turned his attention back to Crowley. “Sorry to interrupt the screaming session but I need to get back to work.”

Crowley pressed his lips. He looked like he was thinking over his words before speaking. “It’s fine…I’ll keep it down.” 

Aziraphale smiled at the redhead. “Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.” He turned around to leave the room of plants. He had to get back to his shop before Pollution’s annoyance turned to anger.

“Yeah. Will do…” Aziraphale heard Crowley speak as he left, but he didn’t bother to turn around to look back at the redhead. “Anathema, can you get me a broom?” He managed to catch Crowley’s question just before he left the back room off the plant shop.

**[-X-]**

Things went well for the next ten minutes. Pollution had picked a design but asked for some changes to it. The shape was changed to look better on Pollution’s middle finger, small details were added, and ink was chosen. Everything was ready to go.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom before we start.” Pollution pushed themselves off of the vintage couch.

“Alright. I’ll be out in a moment.” Aziraphale nodded, keeping his eyes down as he finished the tattoo tracing on the light table in front of him.

He looked to the wall.

The shouts had not started back up. Hardly any sound had come from behind the wall actually. He had heard some shuffling of something being moved, but nothing else. 

Crowley had kept his promise of being quiet since Aziraphale had burst into the plant-filled room, which had been fine for the remainder of the meeting with Pollution.

“Are you still there Crowley?” He spoke to the wall.

The silence lingered long enough that Aziraphale briefly began to worry he had scared Crowley off and that he was just a crazy old man talking to the wall in his shop.

 _“…Yeah. I’m still here…”_ Hearing the other man’s voice from behind the wall allowed Aziraphale to release the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Pollution and I just finished up and I’m going to close the office door. You’re free to shout till the plants start growing better.” Aziraphale explained. “It’s only fair since I interrupted your screaming session.”

 _“It takes a lot more yelling sessions till they turn out right Angel.”_ He could hear a chuckle in Crowley’s voice. _“Thanks for the heads up though. Sorry about the trouble again…”_

“It was no problem. We should figure something out about the wall situation though.” Aziraphale said. He had a few ideas on what they could do, but

 _“Yeah, it would be good to figure something out.”_ Crowley agreed. _“I’m closing the shop up around nine. You up for talking at that time?”_

Aziraphale nodded at the wall without thinking about the gesture. “That sounds good. I’ll be working on some other projects, so just come over when you’re available.”

_“Will do Angel.”_

Aziraphale smiled to himself. Everything was fine for the moment, though Crowley and he were going to have to figure out something to fic their wall situation. He stood up from his desk, picking up the tattoo tracing, and heading towards the door. He had to get his machine set up while Pollution was still in the bathroom.

_“You are an absolute bloody fool! How could you not think of something like this?!”_

Aziraphale stopped right in the middle of his doorway to turn back to the wall. He rose an eyebrow as he watched the wall. Crowley continued to shout loudly like before, but there was something different about how he was shouting. It didn’t sound like he was shouting at the plants like before.

“Is he shouting at the plants again?”

Aziraphale jumped, letting out a loud scared gasp. He turned his attention to Pollution who had suddenly appeared behind him. 

“Please don’t do that Pollution…” Aziraphale clutched his hand over his chest, his racing heart starting to return to its regular pace. One of these days they were going to give him a heart attack. That or War was going to cause him to have one.

Pollution giggled softly at his words. “Sorry about that.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the apology. He pulled the door of his office closed and turned his back to it, trying to ignore the now muffled shouts from behind the door. “We should get started on the tattoo.”

There was something different about Crowley’s tone and it was causing a new worry to form in Aziraphale’s guts, but he couldn’t worry about it right now. He barely knew the man, and he had his own job to do.

Stepping past Pollution, Aziraphale made his way towards that tattooing station of the shop.

“We should get started before War shows up wondering where you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading through the chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. Once again, I am really sorry for the long wait on this. I can't promise that the next chapter will be up quickly. I have written a little bit out, but my job is still having issues and I can't promise that I'll have the next chapter up soon. I can promise that I'm not giving up on this story though. 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who kept reading this and enjoyed it. Any and all feedback is appreciated.


	3. A Shared Arrangement

Crowley stared back at his reflection in the bathroom's mirror, sunglasses hanging from their earpiece between his teeth.

His hair had started in a tight and neat bun, but over the last few hours it strands had fallen out and were sticking out around his head. His black shirt and gray jeans were clean when he started the day, but there were large spots of dirt scattered around his dark clothing.

He looked like a mess.

This was not how he wanted to meet Aziraphale tonight. The other man was always so well put together despite his outdated tastes. 

_Should I put my hair down? No, it'll just be a bigger mess and I didn't pack my hairbrush today…_

Crowley chewed on the earpiece of his sunglasses, keeping his eyes focused on the reflection in front of him. He was so focused on the mirror that he didn't notice when a spot of brown hair appeared behind his shoulder in the mirror. 

"Crowley."

The redhead flinched at the voice behind him, dropping the sunglasses from his mouth. He caught them quickly and placed them back on his face before he turned around to face his younger coworker with a sneer on his face. "Don't sneak up on me like that Ema."

Anathema rolled her eyes at his words. "Don't stare off into the mirror's abysses then."

Shaking his head he turned to face the young woman completely, leaning back on the sturdy sink behind him. "I wasn't staring…" He muttered and sniffed before he continued. "What's up?"

"Are you still meeting your Angel tonight?"

Her question caused a warm sensation to spread across his cheeks. Crowley had to let out a soft cough before he spoke. "Yes. And he's not "my Angel". He's just our neighbor."

"Right…right…" Anathema nodded at her words. A sly smile spread across her lips, causing Crowley to raise an eyebrow at her. "And what is our neighbor's name?" She asked with a tone that could only be described as sickling sweet.

Crowley huffed and rolled his shoulders. "…His name is Aziraphale." His words came out like a long heavy sigh.

Anathema let out a dramatic gasp at his reply. "Oh good! Your practice is paying off." She said sarcastically and clapping her hands softly. 

Crowley's eyes narrowed from behind his sunglasses. His cheeks had grown warmer at her words, but he was trying his best to ignore the obvious redness spreading across his cheeks. "Don't you have arrangements to finish?"

Anathema's smirk returned at his question. "They're all done. I'm about to head out."

"And you decided to stick around just to tease me?" Crowley shot back. 

"Oh, I can tease you at any point old man." The younger woman let out a laugh. Despite his annoyance, he could help but to laugh softly. 

"The youths these days…" He sighed deeply, unable to fight the smile that formed on his lips. After a moment, the smile fell and Crowley straightened up. "Are you going to be okay heading home on your own?" His tone was serious. He couldn't help but worry about her walking around in the later hours of the night.

Anathema pressed her lips at his words before forcing a smile on her face. "I'll be okay Crowley. Please try not to worry about me while you're on your date." She teased, trying to switch the topic back to Aziraphale.

Crowley sighed. He knew what she was doing, but he didn't want to push it too much. "It's not a date." 

"You say that…but you don't know how it'll turn out." Anathema continued with her teasing tone.

Crowley rolled his eyes at her. "I've met the man only a few times." He said though that didn't change the fact that he was curious about the tattoo artist next-door.

Aziraphale was nothing like the tattoo artists who Crowley had met in the past. Some had been older than him and dressed like retired bikers, and some had been young edgy professionals, and then there were those like Ligur.

A prickling sensation spread over the skin of his right shoulder blade. Crowley pressed his lips at the feeling, trying to ignore it and forget about the image inked onto the skin of his back. 

"You have a preferred nickname for him and put off shouting at the plants for him." Anathema's voice cut through his thoughts. He looked up at her, suddenly remembering where he was and what they were talking about.

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "…I'm just trying to be nice." He said with a shrug, acting as though nothing was wrong. He pushed his glasses upon his face, trying to keep her from noticing if something was wrong. 

"I'm surprised you'd admit something like that." Anathema continued, seeming to not notice that anything was wrong with Crowley.

Crowley smiled at her. "Well, no one would believe you if you tried to tell them that." His smile dropped and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're sure you'll be okay? I can give you a ride home, I don't mind. I can talk-"

"Crowley." Anathema interrupted her friend. Her smile had dropped and her lips had turned into a stiff line. Her whole body tensed, her arms crossing over her chest. "I'll be fine. I know you mean well, and I appreciate it, but I'll be okay."

Crowley let out another sigh. He knew she hated being "coddled", as she would put it, but he couldn't help it. She was his business partner and his closest friend after all. "I know, I know, I just…I worry."

Anathema relaxed, releasing the stiffness that had come over her whole body. "Try not to, please. I'm a big girl. Besides, you'll ruin your date if you do." Her smile returned as she spoke.

"It's not-!" The redhead caught himself, suddenly remembering that Aziraphale could hear him if he raised his voice. "…It is not a date. We're just going to talk."

"Talking does happen on dates." She grinned cheekily. Glancing at the watch on her wrist caused the smile to fall from her face quickly. "Okay, I have to leave before it gets any later." Stepping backward Anathema made her way out of the bathroom and towards the door to the front half of the shop. "Bye Crowley!"

Hearing the fade sound of the door closing, Crowley let out a deep sigh, smiling to himself as he shook his head. "That girl…"

Despite being as annoying as the kid sister he never had, Crowley couldn't deny that meeting Anathema had been the best thing to happen to him a few years ago. He had been on his own for too long when they meet by pure chance.

The ping of his phone pulled Crowley from his thoughts. Pulling his phone out from his pocket he saw the text from the contact named Angel.

**Hello Crowley. It's Aziraphale.**

**I've just finished up for the night and I'll be  
heading out in a moment. Do you want  
to walk to the park together or shall  
we meet there?**

Crowley smiled at the strangely formal text he had received from the other man.

**Lets walk together**

**Ill be out in a sec**

Shaking his head, he turned to face the mirror behind him. "Time to go." He told himself, pressing his lips as his heart rate increased. "It's just to talk, nothing more or less." He said to himself, trying to calm his nerves that had suddenly decided that now was the time to panic. 

Taking a deep breath the redhead pushed himself away from the bathroom's sink and turned away from the mirror to make his way out of the shop.

Stepping out of the shop, Crowley was greeted by a surprise outside.

Aziraphale was standing outside of The Quill. The blond looked up from the phone he was holding in his hand. "Oh, hello Crowley." The other man looked just as surprised as Crowley was. 

It was an adorable sight.

"Ah, hi Angel." Crowley felt warmth developing in his cheeks because of the tattoo artist.

Okay, maybe Anathema had a point…but he wasn't planning on telling her that.

"I just got your message..." Crowley turned to the door of his shop, fishing the keys of his shop out of his jacket's pocket to focus on his door.

"I was just locking up when I messaged you." Aziraphale finished locking up and turned his attention back to Crowley. The redhead finished locking up his shop, unable to find any reason to avoid looking at his neighbor.

Aziraphale's sweetly soft smile remained. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep…" Crowley nodded, amazed that his words didn't come out shaky like he was feeling.

"Excellent. Let's get going then." Aziraphale's smile grew into a grin. He turned towards the street and began leading the way to the park with Crowley following the other man closely.

**[-X-]**

The park was quiet. People were walking around, most were walking their dogs or some were in pairs wandering around, but given how big the park was the strangers were scattered about giving everyone enough space to be left on their own.

Crowley and Aziraphale had found an empty bench near the entrance they had just come from. Crowley leaned back, resting against its wood lazily. Aziraphale sat with his back straightened and his hands cupped together in his lap.

For a moment neither man said anything. 

"So…" Crowley began, dragging the last syllable out a little longer. "I've been thinking it over with Anathema about what to do. I know the shouting is causing a problem for you so-"

"I didn't say I had a problem with the shouting." Aziraphale interrupted.

Crowley turned his head to look at the other man, confused by his words. "Why not?"

How could he not have a problem with it? People always had a problem with his shouting, no matter how many times he tried to explain his reasoning behind it. He lost many roommates who couldn't stand his habits, landlords had kicked him out. Anathema could stand the yelling only up to a certain point when she would eventually put her headphones in.

"You said it helps the plants grow." Aziraphale shrugged at his words. "I'm an artist. I've done strange things to get my ideas out. I spent a whole week stalking the ducks around the park because I was looking for a specific one." Aziraphale continued to speak, not seeming to realize how he had started to ramble. "Drove Newton crazy to the point to he got War involved in the duck hunt so I'd come back to the shop."

Crowley raised an eyebrow over the lens of his sunglasses. "Why were you looking for a duck?"

"He was so pretty! He was still growing into a full duck and he was just so…cute!" The smile on the blond's face continued to grow as he spoke. "I just wanted to get a picture of him, but he kept getting away. He was quite a rude little thing…" At the last of his words, Aziraphale's smile turned into a pout.

Crowley let out a soft laugh. "…You would find a duck cute."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aziraphale turned his head towards the other man.

"Nothing…" Crowley turned his face away, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his small smile.

God this man was adorable…

Coughing lightly, Crowley removed his hand from his mouth. He tilted his head to look at Aziraphale. "So, what do you think is a good idea for the wall issue?" He asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. This was the whole reason that they were meeting together right now.

Aziraphale shifted in his spot, his hand moving up to tap his fingers against his lips. "Well…the best I could think of is we exchange numbers." He said after thinking it over for a moment. "That way if I'm with a client I can let you know to avoid shouting at the plants till I finish."

"That would be better than shouting through the wall…" Crowley agreed. It was probably the easiest thing to do rather than testing out how soundproofing foam would work with the plants and their needs.

"It is quite fun though." Aziraphale laughed softy.

Crowley stared at the other man with a look of confused joy. "You're a strange one Angel." A smile formed on the redhead's lips at his own words. "How did you get into tattooing anyway?"

Most of the tattoo artists he knew were nothing like Aziraphale.

"I got into it twelve years ago after taking up an apprenticeship at another shop. I enjoyed it, but I wanted to run by own ship so I decided to open up the Quill after a few years." Aziraphale explained.

"You've only been doing this for twelve years?" Crowley was honestly surprised by Aziraphale's words. He had assumed that Aziraphale had been doing this for a while, which twelve years were, but most tattoo artists Crowley met were people who had been doing the practice since they were in their early twenties.

"Yep." Aziraphale was rather confident in his answer. There was a warm smile on his face.

Crowley smiled back at the other man. "And what did you do before this?"

Aziraphale's smile fell at Crowley's question.

"…I worked for my family's company with my siblings." Aziraphale said softly, the confidence and joy he had just been filled with were suddenly gone.

Crowley didn't say anything. He was too busy trying to figure out what to say after causing such an uncomfortable reaction from Aziraphale. He was fine with annoying people or making them angry, he just seemed to have that kind of luck, but there were some things he wasn't willing to push.

"How did you get the tattoo on your face?" Aziraphale's question broke Crowley from his thoughts.

"Oh, this?" His hand found its way up to the side of his face. He brushed a finger over the tiny tattoo. "I got it when I was twenty. One of my old mates was getting into tattooing and I volunteered to be one of his first test clients."

Aziraphale hummed in response. "He seemed to do a good job for a beginner."

Crowley let out a loud laugh at Aziraphale's words, startling a bird nearby tree and causing it to fly away. "He was sober for this one. He wasn't for the other one."

Aziraphale tilted his head at Crowley's words, curiosity taking over his face. "You have another tattoo?"

"Yep. One that I'm not proud of." He shifted, pushing his back against the bench as the nerves around his tattoo tingled like ants under his skin. 

Aziraphale's eyes trailed up and down along Crowley. "Is it on your back?"

Crowley turned his head back to the blond, surprised by the man's question. "What makes you say that?"

"You're body language." Aziraphale explained. "I've gotten used to reading people during sessions. Not everyone is willing to say when they need a break, unfortunately."

"Oh…" Crowley moved his hand to rub the back on his neck. "Yeah, I've got one on my back. It's not good, and technically it's unfinished."

Aziraphale shifted in his seat, turning his body towards the other man. "Have you wanted it finished?"

"No." The word was quick and harsh, like a sharp snap.

Aziraphale flinched at Crowley's response, causing the redhead to press his lips. "…Sorry." Crowley murmured his words softly, turning his head to look away from Aziraphale. He hadn't meant to snap like that, it just happened. That was often what happened with his bloody temper. It took over before he could even stop it.

"It's okay." Aziraphale spoke gently, the moment of "Was it that bad of an experience?"

"Disastrous." Crowley tilted his head back so it rested against the back of the bench. He stared up at the cloudy dark sky above them, letting out a long sigh. "My mate passed out halfway through working on it. We had been decided to drink while he was working on it and the tequila got the better of him." He continued, still unable to bring himself to look at the blond out of embarrassment.

It hadn't been a smart decision. That was easier to see it now that he was old and weathered by the world, but back then he had been a young man trying his best to prove how cool he was to his new friends.

"Have you ever thought about getting a cover-up for it?" Aziraphale asked

Crowley shrugged at Aziraphale's question. "I've thought about it, but I haven't seen anyone about it." He could have gotten it covered at any point in the last few years if he ever gave himself the time to do so.

"Could I take a look at it?"

He wanted to laugh at the question. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see it now. He didn't have the confidence that his younger-self had, to own the mess.

Crowley turned his head at the tattoo artist, ready to deny the man's request. Instead, he found a lump in his throat. 

Aziraphale was looking at him, but his bright blue eyes were so different from before. They were full of so much joy and excitement, like a child being told he could pick out any toy from the store without any restrictions. There was something about the pure excitement that was bursting from Aziraphale that caused Crowley's mouth and mind to separate as a single word fell from his lips.

"…Sure."

**[-X-]**

"Do you want to keep your glasses on?"

"Yeah." Crowley swallowed after he spoke, trying to push down the annoying lump in his throat. He was feeling exposed enough with his still clothed chest pressing into the smooth brown leather of the tattoo chair.

Ending up at the tattoo parlor was not how Crowley saw things turning out tonight. He also didn't expect to end up laying chest down in a tattoo chair, with his shirt untucked, waiting for Aziraphale to push it up and look over his back.

Why did I say yes to this?

"Okay." Aziraphale responded as he sat down in the short stool with wheels that were waiting beside the tattoo chair. He pushed his fingers under the shirt, ready to push it up, but Crowley flinched harshly. Aziraphale pulled his hand away, letting the shirt "Sorry. I thought you were prepared. I should have warned you."

"...It's fine." Crowley managed to get the words out as heat filled his cheeks.

For a moment Aziraphale was quiet and still.

"Is this okay?" The artist's voice was gentle but there was a hint of worry, maybe fear, laced between his words.

"Yeah...I just need a moment." Crowley swallowed the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. It had been so long since anyone had taken off his shirt, let alone him taking it off for someone else. He just couldn't stand the laughter that always followed after. Too many one-night stands ended with him leaving before they even got down to business because of his temporary partner laughing at his back.

Crowley took in a deep breath before letting the air go in a long exhale. "It's okay. I'm okay..."

Aziraphale wouldn't laugh. He was a good guy. He had been doing this long enough. He must have seen plenty of tattoo disasters. There wasn't a chance he wouldn't laugh.

At least Crowley hoped there wasn't.

"Alright. Let me know if I should stop." Aziraphale told him gently.

"Do I need to have a safe word for this?" Crowley joked with a laugh, trying to ease his still nervous nerves.

A soft chuckle came from behind him. "If that's what you need." Aziraphale spoke in a soft but professional tone. "Mine is teacup. Feel free to use it."

The words caused Crowley's eyes to go wide behind his sunglasses. He struggled to speak, shock shaking through his body at the words that had come from Aziraphale while still using the gentle professional tone. "...I...I'm, uh, yeah, let-let's go with that." Crowley managed to get the words out, feeling as if his brain had just been forced to restart like a computer updating.

A soft snicker came from Aziraphale. "Just say the word and I'll pull away." His hand took hold of the shirt's fabric, pushing it up the rest of the way till it was bundled up on Crowley's shoulders. For a moment he was quiet. It was a long moment, so long that weight was starting to grow in the room and Crowley's skin was beginning to prickle with goosebumps.

"Oh...Okay... I have many questions..." Aziraphale spoke up from behind Crowley. The tone in his voice wasn't humorous, there wasn't even a snicker like moments ago. His voice was filled with confusion and a hint of worry in his words. "What was this supposed to be?"

Crowley released the breath that he had been holding. "It was supposed to be a snake breaking out of the skin." He explained, pressing his cheek into the leather seat as his face filled with warmth. "That was the idea at least. I don't know how it ended up being a sad glory hole dick with googly eyes on it."

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. Crowley heard a snort escaped the other man. The redhead looked over his shoulder to see Aziraphale pressing his lips.

"That...is a very accurate description..." He coughed lightly, trying to get himself back under control.

Crowley chuckled softly at Aziraphale's words. "I know it's bad. I've seen the pictures." He turned his head away, laying it back on the brown leather cushion.

How were Aziraphale's fingers so soft and gentle as they danced around his back's skin?

"So...why didn't this get finished?" Aziraphale's question broke through the silence.

"Well, Hastur had decided that consuming a large quantity of tequila was a great idea while working on my back." "He ended up passing out at some point."

"I think I know exactly where he gave up." Aziraphale sounded as though he was struggling to find the correct words to describe just what he was seeing and feeling. "One of these lines is very...wobbly."

Crowley let out a laugh. "Yeah, Sir Skin Flute is a bit of a mess."

A loud gasp of pure horror came from behind him. "Why did you name it?"

"I didn't name it! The asshole who gave this to me did!" Crowley snapped, turning his head just enough to look at the tattoo artist.

"Oh dear lord..." Aziraphale let out a worrisome sigh that caused Crowley to cackle. After a moment the florist settled back down, allowing Aziraphale's fingers to move against the inked line on Crowley's back. "The bright side is your old friend's lines were quite thin. It'll be easy to cover up if we use color and extra details." The blond explained before pulling his hand away from Crowley's back.

The redhead sat up in the seat, turning in it to face Aziraphale as he pulled his shirt back down. "You're willing to take that kind of challenge?" He asked with a chuckle.

Aziraphale simply shrugged at the question. "I like art challenges. They keep life interesting." He explained with a smile. "Though, if you don't want me to do it I won't take it personally."

Crowley pressed his lips, thinking over Aziraphale's words. He had thought about getting the tattoo covered up every few months, but it had never been a major priority. 

"…How much do you charge?"

"It's a hundred for one art session. You get all the ideas I have and have the right to take them elsewhere if you want, but I can't do the work for nothing."

Crowley pressed his lips, thinking over "...Show me what you got and we can go from there."

Aziraphale smiled brightly. "Alrighty then..." He picked up a notebook sitting on the table beside the tattooing table beside the chair and a pen that seemed to come from nowhere. "Are there any ideas you have in mind for the cover-up?" He turned his head to Crowley.

Crowley was quiet, chewing on his lower lip and turning his head up as he thought to himself. "…Maybe a set of wings?" He said after a moment of being alone with his thoughts. He turned his attention back to Aziraphale. "Like black ones. Big and grand angel wings, only black instead."

Aziraphale let out a laugh at Crowley's words. "Are you trying to make yourself into a fallen angel?" He asked with a smile, jotting down Crowley's ideas into the notebook.

Crowley's smile turned into a grin. "I got dragged down to be one, may as well embrace it." He said, letting a bitter chuckle pass through his lips.

He hadn't meant to end up in so much trouble. He just ended up hanging out with the wrong kind of crowd when he met Luci and the rest of his followers.

Aziraphale's smile dropped briefly before it returned smaller than before. "I don't think you're that awful..." He muttered, keeping his eyes down on the notebook in his hand. Crowley looked at the artist, surprised by his words. The redhead opened his mouth but he was cut off by Aziraphale closing his notebook. "I think I've got some ideas that might work." Aziraphale looked back to Crowley, a small smile on his face. "I'll get started on it as soon as Newton is back and I can hand some of my other projects off to him."

"Newton...?" Crowley asked, scrunching his face in confusion. He had heard Aziraphale mention the name before, but he couldn't place where he had heard the name before.

"My assistant." Aziraphale clarified after noticing the other man's confused look. "He'll be back from visiting his family in a few days." The blond turned his attention back to the wall, a smirk forming on his lips.

Seeing the smirk on the gentle man's lips, Crowley's interest was piqued. "What are you thinking about?"

Aziraphale shook his head, turning his eyes to Crowley. "...I'm just thinking about play a prank on Newton."

"Oh, you are a terrible angel..." Crowley rose an eyebrow at the other man. "Care to share what you've got planned?" He leaned towards the blond, wondering just what kind of prank a man like Aziraphale could be planning.

"Well..." Aziraphale clapped his hands together, swirling in the seat to face Crowley. There was a grin on his face. It wasn't the gentle or sweet kind Crowley had seen from the tattoo artist before. It was a grin of excitement. It reminded him of the look that had caused him to say yes and let the tattoo artist see his back. "...It involves you yelling."

Crowley stared at the blond as a wide grin spread across his face. "I like this already..."

**[-X-]**

"I'm surprised to see you didn't set the place on fire while I was gone." The first words out of Newton's mouth caused Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"There was a time where I ran this place without you." He reminded the younger man. He had only hired Newton a few years ago after War decided to go into business with her friends. He had managed to keep the store afloat on his own.

"Yes, yes, the dark ages where you would stick post-it notes around to remind yourself about your appointments while forgetting where you set your teacup." Newton sighed dramatically as he pulled his jacket off.

"I don't forget about my teacups that often." The older man denied.

Newton turned his attention to Aziraphale with an unimpressed look on his face. "I found a moldy one, on your desk, during our interview." The young tattoo artist reminded his boss. "And I will never let you forget it."

Aziraphale pouted at Newton's words. "Even if I ask nicely?"

"Never." Newton shook his head, grinning.

Aziraphale let out another huff. "Well, at least I didn't misplace any teacups this week."

"That you know of!" Newton called out made his way to the office.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at Newton's words. He adored the younger man, he was a good artist and assistant who had grown out of the nervous and shy habits he had when he first started working with Aziraphale. He had even made friends with War and her friends, which was where his newly acquired snark had come from. 

A loud ping came from inside Aziraphale's jacket's pocket. Pulling his phone out and unlocking it, he was greeted to a text from Crowley.

**Yo**

**Gonna be shouting at plants**

Aziraphale smiled at the text. Crowley had been great about texting Aziraphale every time he had a shouting session in the short time since their arrangement had started.

**Thank you for letting me know dear.**

"Who you texting?"

Aziraphale looked up from his phone at Newton's question. "Just our new client, Crowley." He explained briefly, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

"Oh cool." Newton nodded and turned away to keep looking through the office, seemingly not paying much attention to Aziraphale's response. "Ah! I knew it!" He cried out, picking something off the retail counter at the front of the store.

It was a small pick teacup. It had been forgotten by the register, hidden slightly by the primrose plant he had gotten from Crowley. 

Aziraphale pressed his lips as a blush of embarrassment spread across his cheeks. "So there's one teacup..." He muttered.

"It's one that I just found." Newton said, picking up the cup. He pointed towards the open doorway of the office. "There's probably more in the office." He headed towards the room, ready to dig through it for any of the hidden teacups to join the first he had found.

Aziraphale sighed to himself, turning his eyes up to the ceiling.

Well...he wasn't going to be hearing the end of this for a while.

Another ping came from his phone. Pulling it back out, he was greeted by another text from Crowley

**Any clients today?**

Aziraphale looked back to the doorway of his office, watching Newton search around the space and pulling another teacup. A sly smile spread across the blond's lips.

**No. All of my appointments are finished  
for the day.**

**Feel free to say whatever you'd like my  
dear boy.**

Aziraphale slid the phone away to his pocket before Newton could notice anything. This was not how he planned on letting Newton meet Crowley, and he had originally planned to let Crowley know when Newton returned, but this was going to be so much funnier.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket he made his way to the office. Newton, who had been looking over one of the stuffed bookshelves of the room, spun around on his heel. 

"Four. Tea. Cups." He pointed to his desk, where four mismatched cups in were sitting on a recently cleared off space. Aziraphale looked at the cups, a blush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. He recognized one of the cups as being from his meeting with Pollution just a week ago. 

He turned his eyes to Newton, shrugging. "Well, that's better than last time?"

Newton sighed, leaning against the brick wall. "Zira, I love you and I love working for you but-"

_"What in the name of Satan's tits is this?!"_

Newton let out a scream, tripping over his own feet as he attempted to step back from the wall and falling onto the rugged floor.

Aziraphale burst out laughing, his embarrassment vanishing as Newton hit the floor.

_"Oi, Angel!"_ Crowley's muffled voice came from behind the wall. _"Was that you?"_

"Nope!" Aziraphale called out in a risen voice, still laughing.

Lying on the mismatched carpets on the floor, clutching the fabric of his shirt with shaking hands, Newton struggled to find words as he looked up at Aziraphale. "What-what…"

The older tattoo artist smiled down at his assistant, calming himself. A giggle still escaped his lips as he spoke. "Crowley, meet Newton." He turned his attention from the wall to his young assistant on the floor. "Newton, meet Crowley." He gestured back to the wall.

Newton stared up at his boss, still shaking, unable to make sense of what the older artist was telling him.

_"Angel! You didn't tell me we were scaring him today!"_ Crowley sounded a little offended.

"Well I was going to, but I thought it would be funnier if you didn't know he was here." Aziraphale explained, raising his voice so the other man could hear him through the wall.

_"I could have said something so much cooler though!"_

Another giggle escaped from Aziraphale. "I thought it was funny." 

"Aziraphale…" Newton finally spoke up, finding his voice. "…Who is Crowley, why was there shouting, why are we talking to him through our wall, and what is this about scaring me?"

"Crowley is our new neighbor; he's opened the shop next door. He's also our newest client." The blond man explained quickly.

Newton cocked his head at Aziraphale's explanation. "The flower shop?"

The blond nodded. "That's the one."

"Okay…that still doesn't explain the shouting, cursing, why we're talking through the wall, or what Satan's tits have to do with this." Newton said, still trying to make sense of everything that was happening.

"Crowley screams at his plants."

The younger artist turned his head to look at the wall. "Why are you screaming at them?" He raised his voice slightly like Aziraphale had been doing.

_"It makes them grow better."_ Crowley answered back.

"That can't be true." Newton said with a shake of his head.

_"Yes, it is."_ Crowley snapped back quickly with a biting tone.

"I believe it." Aziraphale agreed. "I've seen the plants, they are quite lovely. My new primrose came from it."

_"How is that one doing?"_ Crowley asked, the bite in his voice suddenly replaced with a kinder tone.

"Quite well." Aziraphale continued. "I've got it down by the register right now."

A loud groan could be heard from behind the wall. _"Angel, you've got to move it."_ Crowley told the blond. " _There is not enough natural light in your parlor. It needs to be by a window for it to survive."_

"Oh…" Aziraphale pouted at Crowley's words. He hadn't thought the light would be that important but Cowley was the expert when it came to the plants. He would have to put it by a better window, maybe he'd move it upstairs. It would probably-

"Hey!" Newton called out, breaking the blond's train of thought. Aziraphale's turned his attention to look down at his assistant. "Why are you two talking through the wall?" The young man asked, raising his voice again so he could be heard by the other man behind the wall.

Both of the men were quiet for a moment. Aziraphale glanced at the wall and shrugged.

"How else are we going to talk?" The older tattoo artist asked. 

_"There's no point in texting when we're so close."_ Crowley said. Aziraphale nodded along with Crowley's words.

From his spot on the floor, Newton stared at his boss above him before glancing at the watch on his wrist. Letting out a long sigh, he lowered himself back to the floor, setting back of his head against the carpeted floor. "…I've only been back for twenty minutes…"

Aziraphale leaned over, hovering above his young assistant, smiling gleefully. "It's so nice to have you back, son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the long wait but I hope this was worth it. There was a plan for this to be up by Christmas or after it at the latest, but the holidays ended up taking more of a toll than I expected. Should have known better, but thought it was going to be chill. It wasn't.
> 
> With the new year here I am hoping to at least get a chapter out a month, hopefully. I am planning on looking into a new job also. It's just to see if there are some better options in my area because I've been having many issues with how things are handled at it. I'll give an update if things start heading that way or if I have to stop to focus on getting a new job and settled into it. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this! Any comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	4. A Glass Too Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I'm really sorry that this is really (really) late. I'm not dead, I didn't give up on this fic, life just decided to kick everyone in the balls apparently. I can't say sorry enough for the wait and lack of updates. Thank you everyone who has stuck around to see the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

**_ “Fat bottom girls you make the rockin’ world go round…”  _ **

Crowley bobbed his head at the music playing through his earpods while he swept the loose leaves and dirt scattered around the backroom’s floor. He stepped around the plant room, swinging his hips in tune with Queen’s song as he continued to clean the space.

A ping from his phone interrupted his song, breaking Crowley’s concentration on the plants. The song picked up where it left off. Crowley pulled his phone out, pausing the song to open the message that had caused the ping just a moment ago. Upon noticing the message was from Angel a warm smile formed on his lips. 

** Hello Crowley. I’m sorry to bother you, but  **

** I’ve finished the sketches for your tattoo. I **

** forgot to send you a text message earlier. **

Another message popped up right as Crowley finished reading the first text.

** Please let me know what you think. When **

** you’re available to get back to me. **

Warmth bubbled in Crowley’s stomach at the message. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Aziraphale face to face since last week when they had talked about Crowley’s new tattoo. They two had spoken through the wall a few times before and after Crowley’s screaming sessions, and after that little scare that they had caused Newton, but they hadn’t spent any time together since the impromptu tattoo examination.

He quickly typed out his messages, sending them as soon as he finished them.

** Hey Angel **

** I just finished cleaning up **

** Mind if I head over to see them **

** in person? **

He waited for what felt like a long minute, watching as the three bouncing dots appeared on the screen in anticipation of Aziraphale’s reply. 

** Not at all my dear. Newton and I are almost **

** finished for the night as well. **

** Feel free to come over at any time. **

Crowley’s smile grew into a grin at the last reply at the excitement bubbling in his stomach at the anticipation of seeing Aziraphale again. 

** Cool **

** Ill be over in a bit **

** Just got a cleanup **

He slid his phone into his back pocket, picking up where he had left off in his sweeping to quickly get it done. After sweeping up the loose leaves and scattered dirt he gave all of the plants a quick spray, and fixing up his hair, he left the plant room. He scanned the back room of the shop before stopping when he spotted Anathema at her table, finishing up the new arrangements that had been ordered. She had her headphone in her ears and was tapping her foot against the stool’s low railing while humming along to whatever song was playing.

She was so engrossed in her music and work that she didn’t notice Crowley at all.

A sly grin form on Crowley’s lips as an idea suddenly popped in his head. He stepped towards his friend quietly, fearing that she would somehow hear him and would ruin his prank.

He was soon standing right over Anathema, who didn’t notice him at all. She was still humming along to her song as she finished her arrangement.

Crowley waited just a moment before placing his hands on Anathema’s shoulders quickly. “Hey, Ema!” He shouted causing the brunette to jump in her seat and let out a squeaky yelp. Crowley snickered at his business partner’s reaction, ignoring the glare she gave him and stepping back.

“You ass!” She spun around in her seat, keeping her eyes narrowed on him and pulling her headphones out of her ears. “I could have messed up my arrangement!”

“I waited until you were finished.” Crowley defended. He wouldn’t want to face Anathema’s wrath if he had caused her to mess up an arrangement. Just the thought of that sent a shiver of fear down his spine. “I finished cleaning the plant room and I’m heading over to the Quill.”

Anathema’s glare lightened as a smirk spread across her lips. “Are you missing your angel?” She asked with the tilt of her head.

Warmth spread across Crowley’s cheeks. His smirk dropped suddenly and his arms had crossed over his chest defensively. “No. I’m going to check out the tattoo ideas he has.”

“Ideas? For a tattoo?” She brought her glasses back down to the bridge of her nose. “Are you finally getting a Sir Skin Flute?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders at a twitching nerve on his back at the mention of his tattoo’s title. He couldn’t remember why he had told her about the tattoo, when he had shown it to her, or why he had even thought that telling her about its stupid name was a good idea. According to Anathema, it had happened after a night of drinking, which had answered just about everything about his decision making that night.

Anathema leaned closer to Crowley, somehow keeping her balance even though she was almost teetering off of it. “And just how did Aziraphale find out about the tattoo?” She asked in a

Crowley pressed his lips at her question. This was why he hadn’t told her about Aziraphale plans to make him a cover-up. “I may have mentioned it, and…I kind of ended up showing it to him in his shop.”

A wide grin formed on Anathema’s lips. “So…he got you shirtless on the first date.”

Crowley burned with embarrassment at her words. “…It wasn’t a date.” He spoke after a moment, struggling to find his words. “By the way, I hate you.” He added quickly. 

Anathema rolled her eyes at his words. “You love me...” She pulled her other headphone out, sticking them into her pocket, and pushing herself off her seat. “…Which is why you need me to look over these ideas Aziraphale has.” She said, untying her apron.

Crowley let out a long dramatic sigh, arching backward like a snake. “You’re going to come along even if I say no, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” Anathema nodded, smiling brightly as she hopped off her seat.

Crowley smiled at his friend. A second opinion wasn’t a horrible idea. He didn’t doubt that Aziraphale could create some amazing designs, but Anathema knew him best, what he would typically like in the long term, and she could imagine just what it would look like on his back and how the cover-up would work. “Alright. I’ll take care of the till, you put away the arrangements, and we’ll lock up.”

Anathema nodded at his words and the two separated to get to their separate tasks.

“You cannot be serious.” Crowley and Anathema looked to the counter where a young man with half-rim glasses

“I am Newt.” The redhead was leaning on the front counter, waving a hand dismissively. There was plastic wrap covered her forearm like a bandage, covering up a tattoo that must have just been worked on. “I thought it wasn’t that bad.”

The man’s eyes widened at the woman in front of him. “It was so rushed through.” He argued, his voice rising a bit. Not out of anger, more out of shock. “It was just, let’s throw every character in and try to please everyone by both confirming a relationship that a large group of people wants and then kill our most loved and hated character because that’s what another group wants.”

The woman straightened up, pushing herself off of the counter. “Yeah, but he did it to save her! He went on a whole-”

“Oi!” Crowley barked, interrupting the argument before it could drag on for too long.

The two turned to look towards the door. The man called Newt looked confused while the redhead looked insulted. 

“War I found the cream!” A familiar voice called out from the back. The four turned to look towards the back of the shop. Aziraphale stepped out, carrying a bottle. His eyes landed on Crowley and Anathema, causing a look of surprise to appear on his face. “Crowley! Anathema! I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

Newton looked between Aziraphale and Crowley, confused by what his boss had just said. “This is Crowley?” He asked, pointing at the male redhead.

The mystery woman looked confused by the man’s words. “The guy who shouts at the plants?’

“Yep.” He nodded. Crowley’s eyes dance between the two from behind his sunglasses.

“Oh, cool.” She shrugged, turning on the heel of her black boots to face Crowley and Anathema. “I’m War. I run the Four Horsemen bar down the street.”

Crowley smiled at the other redhead. “Nice to meet you. I’m Crowley and this is Anathema.”

“Hi.” Anathema waved at the other woman. “We run the plant shop next-door.”

“Nice to meet you.” War smiled at the two. “I’ve heard a bit about you guys from Pollution.”

Anathema’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the other woman. “You know Pollution?”

War nodded. “They’re my partner and we run the bar with Death and Famine.”

“Did you just choose those names after you met or was it all a coincidence that you were all named after the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?” Crowley asked, chuckling lightly at his words.

“Coincidence.” Newton peeped up from his spot. “I knew Famine before he met Pol and War. It was all a coincidence, even after they met Death.” He explained as he walked around the counter to Crowley and Anathema. “I’m Newton, the guy you scared last week.” He introduced, holding out his hand to the male redhead.

“Oh, right.” Crowley couldn’t stop the light chuckle that escaped him at the memory from scaring the boy before remembering how much of an ass he was coming off as. “Uh…sorry about that.” Crowley coughed lightly and shook the other man’s hand

“Wait, I haven’t heard this story yet.” An excited grin spread across War’s face.

Newton pulled his hand away from Crowley, turning quickly to face the other redhead. “And you’re not going to.”

War looked at the man, smirking. “I’ll find out.” She placed her hands on her hips, leaning slightly, like an older sister teasing her younger brother.

Newton crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, puffing his cheeks briefly before letting the air go. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I-”

“Children.” Aziraphale spoke up, using a firm tone that reminded Crowley of his English teacher from year eleven. It caused both War and Newton to straighten up like students caught doing something wrong. “If you start bickering again I’m going to have to separate you two.” He said, cutting the two off before their exchange could get dragged out anymore.

Both Newton and War fell quiet at Aziraphale’s words. “Sorry Zira...” They spoke in unison, looking down at the ground like children who had disappointed their parent.

Crowley let out a soft chuckle at the sight, earning him two annoyed glares from War and Newton, a light smack from Anathema, and a small smile from Aziraphale.

“I should get back home. Pol wants to go to some pop-up art thing tonight.” War said, straightening up and turning to Aziraphale.

“Well take this. Keep your tattoo covered, don’t wear anything to irritate it, and change the wrapping before bed tonight.” He listened quickly, handing the bottle of lotion he had come out of the back with.

“Will do Zira.” She took the bottle and gave the tattoo artist a quick hug. “Love ya, see you later.” She pulled away “Nice to meet you guys. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye War!” Newton called out to the woman. She turned to wave to him through the window before spinning around on the heel of her boot and continuing down the street.

Crowley watched her leave through the window before turning his attention to Newton and Aziraphale. “So…War?”

“An ex called her it once, she liked it, so she decided she needed to go by it.” Newton explained.

“It’s certainly unique.” Anathema spoke up, stepping towards Newton. “I’m Anathema, Crowley’s business partner.” She held her hand out

Newton looked at her, seemingly shocked that she was talking to him. He stared for a moment before realizing that she was still holding her hand out for him. “H-hi. I’m Newton. I work here.” He took her hand, shaking it awkwardly.

Aziraphale snickered softly, going unnoticed by his stuttering assistant. He turned his attention to Crowley to properly greet the other man. “Hello, Crowley.”

“Hey, Angel.” Crowley greeted him with a smile. “Ama decided that she needed to see what you had planned.” He gestured his head over to the woman at the counter. She had started talking about something, Newton was listening intently to her, and neither seemed to notice the two other men in the space.

The redhead turned his attention back to the tattoo artist. “Should we give these two a moment?”

“May as well. I enjoy making Newton squirm every now and then.” Aziraphale snickered. He turned, gesturing with his head for Crowley to follow, and made his way to the back office. The floor was covered with red and gold Persian rugs, there was an off-white loveseat sandwiched between two bookshelves against the wall, and there was a wooden antique desk across from the loveseat.

Aziraphale stepped towards the desk. Novels, sketchbooks, papers, and at least two empty teacups were scattered across the surface of the desk. “Now…where did I put that book?” Aziraphale muttered softly, seeming to forget about Crowley for a brief moment, as he picked up a sketchbook and skimmed through its pages. “You can make yourself comfortable…”

“I had no idea that the Four Horsemen were already united.” Crowley spoke up after sitting down on the love seat across from Aziraphale’s desk. “Does this mean that chaos and destruction are upon us?”

Aziraphale let out a soft giggle. “Thankfully, no. There’s plenty of that at the bar, but it stays at the bar.” He set down the second sketchbook. “They’re good people, despite the names, with just a bit of chaos and kookiness mixed in.”

“Kookiness?” Crowley He wasn’t sure if anyone could use that word without sounding odd.

“Weird, strange, odd…” Aziraphale didn’t look up from the fourth sketchbook he was holding. “Ah! There it is.” A bright grin spread across the blond’s face and sat in the office chair behind him.

Crowley managed to push his confusion at Aziraphale’s words aside and focus on the man across from him. “I stuck to the idea of black wings, but I looked into several bird wings to give some more variety.” The artist explained, wheeling his office chair over the floor to hand the open sketchbook to Crowley.

He took the sketchbook. “Whoa, these are good.”

He stared down at the dark gray pencil sketches. They were incredibly realistic. Some were long and slick with a point turning up at the end of them. Some had messy barbs at the ends of the quill, giving the wings a worn-out look to them. They were beautiful, but something was missing.

The sound of footsteps caused both men to look towards the doorway. Anathema stepped into the room, pouting, followed by Newton whose face had a slight red tint to it. “You abandoned me.” Anathema said, focusing her attention onto Crowley.

“You did it first.” Crowley argued and scooted in the seat making more space for her to sit beside him.

Anathema sat down beside her friend, looking down at the open book in his lap. “That’s a lot of wings.” She looked up to Aziraphale. “They’re all great.”

“Yeah…” They were all really good. Aziraphale’s drawings were well detailed and darkened by the inking. Anyone else would have jumped at any of them, but something in Crowley was struggling with them. Something was missing from all of them. They were all good, but they were all missing something that Crowley needed. What that was exactly he didn’t know.

Newton looked down at the sketchbook. His eyebrows grew close in confusion at the drawings. “Where’s the cool one Zira?” He looked over at his boss.

Crowley’s lifted his head to look at the younger man. “Cool one?”

Aziraphale straightened up, caught off by the two men’s questions. “Um, it’s on the other side.” He admitted sheepishly. “It was just an idea. I got a little caught up in it. It’s not-” Crowley ignored Aziraphale’s words and turned the page over to see what else was in the sketchbook.

It was a sketch of him. His head was turned in to the side, showing off his sunglasses on and his long hair was pulled back into a bun like when he had first met Aziraphale a month ago. He was shirtless and his back was the main focus, showing off the large black feathered tattoo that covered the entirety of his upper back and spread onto his shoulders and upper arms.

“This is amazing…” Crowley couldn’t take his eyes off of the drawing in front of him.

It was large, dark, and so dramatic.

“I know!” Newton spoke up, gesturing to Aziraphale. “He was so embarrassed by it though and didn’t want to show you.”

Aziraphale shot a quick glare at his assistant. “It’s would be a very intense tattoo, take multiple sessions, and would be far more expensive than a regular cover-up.” He looked back to Crowley, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“I want it.” Crowley stated, choosing to ignore everything Aziraphale had told him. 

He knew it was going to hurt. He could barely remember getting the tattoo on his back, but could clearly remember the one on his face had been his favorite for years and it had hurt when he got it though it had been worth it. Getting a tattoo as Aziraphale had drawn would be worth it as well. 

Aziraphale pressed his lips, staring at Crowley. Crowley stared back at the artist from behind his sunglasses. “It’s going to take a lot longer and it’ll be more expensive.”

“Don’t care.” Crowley shrugged. He had money saved up after opening his business. He could splurge a little extra on something for himself. “I love this and I will sit through twenty sessions if needed.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips for a long moment before letting out a sigh. “Well, I’ll need to get your measurements and start work on a final draft then.” He looked up at his assistant. “Newton, can you get me a bigger sketchbook?”

The younger man nodded at his boss. “Yep.”

“Need a hand?” Anathema turned her attention back to the younger artist, causing Crowley to raise an eyebrow at his friend.

Newton looked back to Anathema. A red blush spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “S-sure.”

Anathema stood and followed after Newton, who nearly walked right into the doorway because he was too busy looking back at the young woman behind him.

“Is there anything you want to change about the sketch?”

“No, it’s amazing.”

“…Thank you.” “I’ll get a to-scale sketch done and then start the final design tonight.” “Do you mind standing up?” Crowley cocked his head to the side at Aziraphale’s request. The blond opened a drawer on his desk to pull out a soft flat measuring tape. “I need to get a measurement of your back.” He added the explanation after looking up to see Crowley’s confusion.

“We’ll need to have another meeting and we’ll have to break our sessions out.” “Can you stand up straight please?”

Crowley did as Aziraphale asked, straightening his back and shoulders. “Why not just get it done at once?” He asked as Aziraphale pressed the measuring tape against his shoulders gently. Crowley pressed his lips, resisting his urge to jump back away from the blond’s soft touch.

“Doing something like this takes a lot of time, ink, and it will put a huge strain on your body. You’re probably going to hate me at some point.” Aziraphale explained before pulling the tape and his hands away from the redhead’s shoulder.

Crowley looked back over his shoulder, confused at Aziraphale’s words. “How could anyone hate you, Angel?” He asked with a cocky smile. He honestly couldn’t imagine anyone hating the kind tattoo artist.

Aziraphale let out a gentle laugh, shaking his head at Crowley’s smile. “It’s usually only temporary for my clients. I am only human though and I have my flaws.” He said, pressing the measuring tape against Crowley’s back, causing the redhead to stiffen at their closeness. “I'm sorry my dear.” He pulled the tape and his hands away from the other man quickly, taking a step back to write out the measurements.

“It’s okay. I’m just…not use to people being close.” He rolled his shoulders, giving them a quick shake before turning on his heel to face Aziraphale. “So when should we meet up next?”

“Unfortunately I have appointments for the rest of the week. and I’ll be attending a family event at the end of the week so we’ll be unable to start this week.” Aziraphale explained as a look of disappointment came over his face at the mention of his family. 

Crowley rose an eyebrow at the tattoo artist. “You don’t sound too excited about seeing them.”

Aziraphale looked surprised by Crowley’s statement. He turned to face the other man, shaking his head. “Oh no, I am, It’s always nice to see them.” He forced a smile onto his face, clearly lying to Crowley.

Crowley pressed his lips, suppressing a sad chuckle. “You’re not very good at lying Angel.” He spoke in a gentle tone, hoping to get some kind of honest answer from the man.

The blond fell quiet again. It was just for a moment, but it went on for long enough that the silence made Crowley’s skin itch. “…No, I suppose I’m not.” The blond turned around to focus on the papers on his desk. “My siblings and I rarely get along, but we are still family and we should stick together.” He said in a positive tone that sounded far too forced for Crowley’s comfort.

Crowley crinkled his nose at Aziraphale’s statement, now thankful that the artist had turned away from him. He remained quiet, chewing on his tongue and focusing on the bookshelves around him. He couldn’t agree with the other man’s statement. He never had siblings and he couldn’t remember his mother, but he had lived with his father who had taught Crowley that family didn’t always care for each other nor did they stick together.

“Alright, that’s everything I need.” Aziraphale spoke up, breaking the silence, causing Crowley to focus his attention on the artist. “I think we’ll be able to meet again on Thursday or Friday, but I’ll have to check in with Newton about when I’ll be available.”

“I’d prefer Thursday if that’s okay. I can leave the shop around seven that day.” Crowley suggested. Waiting till Thursdays would give him enough time to help Anathema before leaving for the rest of the night. He couldn’t due Fridays has he found himself rather busy with many customers stopping by the shop to pick up a premade bouquet before meeting up with their date or heading home to greet their partners.

“Sounds perfect.” Aziraphale nodded at Crowley’s suggestion. “I’ll let Newton know to make an appointment.” He frowned at his words, turning his attention to the doorway. “He has been taking quite a while though…”

Crowley looked to the doorway. “Maybe he’s being distracted by Anathema.” He chuckled at his own words before looking back to the other man. “Should we go find them?” He suggested, gesturing his head towards the doorway.

“May as well…” Aziraphale said with a sigh. He looked back to Crowley, holding his arm out towards the doorway. “After you my dear.” He said with a warm smile.

Crowley smiled back at the artist before stepping out of the office with Aziraphale following after him. The two didn’t have to look far for the two younger adults. They found the two back at the counter of the shop, Netwon sitting in the high seat beside the register while Anathema was leaning against the counter.

Aziraphale cleared his throat loudly, causing both Anathema and Newton to jump and turning their attention towards the older two men.

“Zira!” Newton stared at his boss, a light red blush covering most of his face. “Um…I found the book.” He picked up the large green sketchbook that was resting to the side of the high chair.

“Oh, good.” Aziraphale’s teacher like tone had returned, but there was a soft teasing tone that didn’t go unnoticed by Crowley or Newton. “I was worried you had gotten lost.” Newton’s blush grew darker at Aziraphale’s words.

Netwon rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry Zira. I…got distracted.” He glanced back at Anathema as he spoke. His silly bright grin seemed to grow just by looking at her. 

Aziraphale laughed softly. "I can see that..." He muttered softly enough that neither Newton or Anathema noticed. Crowley however did and let out a soft laugh of his own. "Can you please put Mr. Crowley down for an appointment on Thursday around seven? I'm going to start putting the tools away." 

Newton nodded at the request. "I'll pencil him in." 

"Thank you." He turned on the heel of his loafer to face Crowley. "I guess I'll see you on Thursday then." 

"Sounds like a date." The words slipped out from Crowley's mouth before he had a chance to think them through. The embarrassment filled his body and blood rushed to his face, not helped by the quick high giggle that could only have come from Anathema.

An excited smile formed on Aziraphale's lips, though he pressed his lips quickly to suppress it. "I'll need dinner first before it's can be considered date." Aziraphale replied smoothly though a pink blush was spreading across his cheeks. "I-I should get started on cleaning..." Aziraphale's voice sounded like a giddy child's as he spoke. "Have a good-night Crowley." He spoke quickly, turning on his heal again to head towards the tattoo section of the shop, hiding behind the drawn vintage curtains. 

"Well, that was a thing..." Crowley turned his attention to Newton at the younger man's chuckle. He was now holding a small notebook and pen. “Will Thursday next week at seven-fifteen sound okay?” He looked back to Crowley. 

The redhead nodded at the question. “Sure.”

“Alright. Your appointment is set.” He “I'll have to close up the shop so I can start helping Aziraphale. Have a goodnight Mr. Crowley.”

“You too kid.” Crowley stepped towards the door. Anathema followed him but turned back to smile at Newton. 

“We’ll talk to you later?”

Newton nodded at her question. “Y-yeah!”

Anathema's smile seemed to grow a bit wider at his reply and she gave him a quick wave before following Crowley out of the shop. The two were only a few steps away from the shop before a smirk spread across Crowley's face.

“Someone’s got a crush...” Crowley teased in a sing-song tone, pushing Anathema's shoulder with his shoulders lightly. 

Anathema rolled her eyes towards him. “Hello Pot.”

“Nice one Kettle.” He shot back, patting her shoulder. “Do you want a ride home tonight?”

She glanced down at the watch on her wrist before nodding. 

Crowley nodded back at her answer as the two continued down the pavement to the Bentley at the parked towards the park. 

** [-X-] **

The next week passed peacefully. Crowley continued to look after and scream at the plants in his shop, clients would arrive at Aziraphale’s shop and some would leave with plastic wrap covering their newly inked skin, and the two continued to text each other and occasionally speak through their shared wall if either had anything going on.

Saturday night rolled around quickly. Crowley hadn’t heard much from the shop next door and he hadn’t had the time to see if the shop even had a client arrive throughout the day.

“Crowley, do you mind if I leave a little early tonight?”

Crowley stopped mid-spray. He released the trigger of his spray bottle “Why…?”

Anathema pressed her lips, a light blush appearing underneath her glasses. “I’m going to see a movie tonight.”

Crowley rose an eyebrow at her words. Anathema would never go to the movies by herself. If she wanted to see a movie she would have been talking about it all week and would have pestered Crowley at some point to go with her.

Crowley stared at his friend for a moment, taking in her image. She had undone her hair bun and had taken the time to fix up her hair. She had dressed a little nicer today, a short ruffle black skirt, and an aqua button-up blouse with red buttons. She had been careful to not get any dirt on herself through-out the day.

Everything about Anathema’s appearance pointed to one explanation.

A wide teasing grin spreading across Crowley’s lips as everything snapped together in his mind. “…With who?” He asked in a sweetly teasing voice.

Anathema pressed her lips at his question. A light red blush spread across her cheeks and she turned her head away just enough so she wasn’t looking at Crowley. “…Newton.”

“You’ve got a date!” Crowley nearly squealed and his grin grew larger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because the last guy I dated was scared off by you.” Anathema argued as if she were speaking to an older brother.

“He wore a fedora.” Crowley defended. There was a lot wrong with the last guy who Anathema had gone out with, but it was all topped off by the terrible yellow fedora he decided to wear when Crowley first met him. “That man could not be trusted…”

Anathema rolled her eyes. “Well, Newton doesn’t wear a fedora, I think he’s cute, and we’re going to see a movie tonight.” She defended

Crowley chuckled at her response, shaking his head. “Go ahead. I’ll take care of finishing lock up.”

Anathema's smile retuned at his words. “Thanks Crowley.”

She gathered her bag and quickly fixed her hair before stepping out of the shop. After Anathema left the shop, Crowley made his way over to the door and locked it. He turned off the sign's light followed by the rest of the shop's front lights and made his way to the back of the shop. 

A wicked smile formed on his face as he pulled his phone out. There was only one thing he could do now that he was on his own. The shop was closed for the night, he was on his own, he was going to blast Queen throughout the shop.

Freddie Mercury's vocals filled the shop and Crowley sang along with them as he cleaned his way through the back of the shop. 

“I want it all!” Crowley sang along with the song. He danced around the room, paying no attention to sweeping like he had planned to do before getting lost in his favorite band’s album. “I want it all! And I want it now!”

_ “Now!” _

Crowley froze at the sudden third voice. He paused the song on his phone, looking around the room wondering briefly that Anathema had returned. His eyes landed on the wall he shared with Aziraphale’s office. “Angel? Is that you?” He stepped towards the wall, raising his voice so that he could be heard clearly through the wall.

_ “Hello Crowley!” _ Aziraphale replied in a loud tone that sounded odd. Crowley stared at the wall, wondering what was going on.  _ “How are you doing?” _

“I’m doing alright.”

_ “I’m fantastic my dear.”  _ He sounded far too happy and his words were slurring together.

“You sound sloshed.” Crowley stated firmly, wondering just what was going on with the other man. He wouldn’t have taken Aziraphale as the type to drink his problems away. He pegged the man as a tea drinker or a bubble bath lover.

_ “Oh. I. Am!” _ Aziraphale cried out far too cheerfully for any sane person.

Crowley pressed his lips before forcing a chuckle. “So the family reunion didn’t go well?” He asked with a casual tone, hoping to get some kind of information from the blond to explain his strange behavior.

Aziraphale did not reply to Crowley’s question. The silence dragged on, causing Crowley to shift uncomfortably as the realization of his mistake came over him. 

“…Uh, how much have you had to drink?” He asked awkwardly, trying to fill the silence.

_ “A bottle.” _ Aziraphale’s answer was extremely cheerful, almost like he was now forcing it.  _ “I’m working on the second now and I’ve got three more.” _ Another moment of silence followed. Crowley stared at the wall, searching his brain for something to say as his skin started to itch. Thankfully, Aziraphale broke the silence for Crowley.

_ “Do you want to come over?” _

Crowley thought about it for a moment. He really should be going home, but something weird was going on with the artist and it had something to do with the man’s family reunion.

“Sure. I’ve just got to finish locking up.” He said with a shrug, deciding that it would be a good idea to at least check on the drunken man. Aziraphale let out a childlike cheerful cry from the other side of the wall, causing Crowley to let out a nervous chuckle. “I’ll be over soon.” He promised

Crowley finished his remaining tasks quickly, locking up his shop and heading over to the Quill next-door to see just what was going on with Aziraphale. A knot of worry had formed in his gut through his brief talk with his very sloshed neighbor.

He stepped into the tattoo shop, the door’s bell jiggling as he opened and closed it behind him. He looked around the dark shop, trying to find the blond artist. There was no sign that there was anyone in the shop. Had he not known better he would have just thought that Newton may have accidentally left the shop’s door unlocked.

He searched around the shop and his eyes landed on the office door. It was cracked just enough for a dim warm light to slip through it. He made his way over to the office door and pushed it open, revealing the tattoo artist on the other side. 

Aziraphale was sitting at his desk and his sleeves were rolled up, showing off his tattooed arms. The blond was working on opening a wine bottle with a wine cork. Three bottles were standing up on the desk beside him and there was a fourth bottle on the floor by his office chair, most likely it being the first one that Aziraphale had finished on his own.

Aziraphale let out a cry as he popped the cork out, lifting his arm as he did so. His eyes suddenly landed on Crowley, finally noticing the redhead standing in the doorway.

“Crowley…” His voice was soft, light, and surprised at the sight of the other man. It was almost as if he didn’t expect the redhead to show up. 

“Hello Angel…” Crowley greeted the other man. “How’s the wine?”

Aziraphale shrugged at the question. “It’s a merlot, one I’ve had before. It’s pretty good.” He said, pulling the cork from the bottle. “I already took care of the pinot noir though. Sorry.”

Crowley just shrugged as a response. “It’s your wine. Do with it what you want.” He made himself comfortable in the loveseat across from the blond. Aziraphale filled the glass before handed it off to the redhead. “Thanks.” He took the glass, wondering briefly about where the other man had brought the second glass from before deciding it wasn’t important.

“Thanks for coming over.” “Aziraphale said as he refilled his glass. “I’m not a big fan of drinking alone.” He muttered before taking a long swig from his glass.

Crowley pressed his lips and swallowed the wine in a gulp. He could see something going on with Aziraphale. The blond was staring off at the nearby wall, eyes glazed over, and looking far from the cheerfully put together man he had first meet a month ago. 

“What do you think about ducks?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale’s sudden question. The artist was still looking down, though he had shifted his focus onto the wine glass in his hand. “That they’re what water rolls off of…” He said with a shrug. “I do think they’re cute though, not as cute as dolphins though.”

“They have mighty big brains…” Aziraphale said, straightening his back before leaning into his office chair so that he was now staring up at the ceiling. 

Over the next hour, the two continued to drink, jumping from one topic to another while working their way through the bottle of wine. Soon the bottle was empty and another was opened. At some point Crowley had undone the bun in his hair and pulled his sunglasses off, finding it hard to see in the dim light of Aziraphale’s office.

“The old man thinks he’s a witch hunter?” Crowley’s slurred his words, trying to make sense of what Aziraphle had just told him.

“Yep…” Aziraphale swung side to side in his chair, taking a sip from his glass. “The first time Netwon brought his uncle to the shop, he thought I was a demon, tried to exorcise me, and when it failed he called me a southern pansy.” He let out a drunken laugh at his memory. “He’s better when Tracy is around. She’s just the sweetest peach and a fabulous dresser.” His warm smile softened as he spoke, staring down into the remaining liquid in his glass.

Crowley watched the man across from him, practically sinking into the cushions of the vintage loveseat, and watching Aziraphale. The blond continued to stare into his wine glass, his smile slipping down into a sad frown.

“What happened?” Crowley hiccupped. Aziraphale looked away from his glass to the man across from him. “At your reunion, some-something happened, right?” He asked pointedly. 

Aziraphale stared at Crowley with a shocked look on his face at being asked a pointed question. The shock melted away slowly. The blond let out a long sigh, blowing a raspberry as he shoved his back into his office chair causing it to rock slightly. He stared up at the ceiling. “The usual shit…”

Crowley chuckled the artist’s words. “I don’t think you can use that language Angel.”

“Why not?” Aziraphale shrugged. He picked up the bottle of wine that had ended up on his desk after being opened a while ago. He poured the liquid into his empty glass, filling it closer to the top than it should have been. “I’m a bastard anyway…” He leaned back in his chair, taking a long sip of his wine.

Crowley stared at the artist across from him, his eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.

“Who the fuck said that?” He nearly growled.

Aziraphale let out a long sigh. “Gabriel…” He leaned back in his office chair, staring up as the ceiling while he continued. “He’s never seen a point in…this.” He raised his hands, still holding his half-fill wine glass, gesturing to the shop around him. “He’s been upset with me ever since I decided to do this. He calls it an embarrassment to the family even though barely anyone outside of our family knows who I am.”

Crowley’s eyebrows knitted closer together. “Who the hell is this Gabriel?”

Aziraphale’s dazed eyes remained up on the ceiling. “My brother.”

“He sounds like a dick.” The redhead shook his head in disgust. “Sorry, but he does.” He added quickly, remembering what the tattoo artist had said about his family last time they met.

The blond let out a soft chuckle at Crowley’s words. “He is, but he’s my brother. There’s nothing I can change about that…” He kept his eyes on the ceiling, avoiding even looking back 

It seemed like Aziraphale didn’t want to talk about his brother anymore.

Crowley watched the other man, now wishing he hadn’t brought up the reunion at all. He finished the large amount of wine in his glass in one harsh gulp. He picked up the nearby wine bottle to refill his glass. His eyes went to the colorful foliage along Aziraphale’s arms. “…I didn’t know you had tattoos.” He said softly, his eyes remaining on the tattoos.

“Oh, right…” Aziraphale sounded surprised. He turned his head down from the ceiling to look at his arms. “I’m still working on them.” A gentle smile formed on his lips at his words as he stared down at the ink on his arms.

A smile formed on Crowley’s lips. Seeing the smile return to Aziraphale’s face caused a warm feeling spread through his chest. “It looks like a garden.”

“That’s what it’s supposed to be actually…” Aziraphale spoke, keeping his eyes on his tattoos. He set his glass down on his desk to run his fingers over his inked skin. “I wanted it to be like the Garden of Eden. It’s taken a long time and there’s still more to do…” He turned his arms, showing off more details on his skin. His right forearm was covered in inked green leafage with colorful anemone flowers scattered throughout the leafage. The leafage continued up to his right arm, encircling a dark-skinned couple inked onto his shoulder. The woman was leaning onto the man’s shoulder, tucking her head under his chin while he looked down at her with a loving look on his face.

“Were those two based on a couple you know?” Crowley pointed at the couple on his shoulder.

Aziraphale followed Crowley's finger, lifting his arm to look at the image on his shoulder. A warm smile formed on his face as his eyes landed on it. “Yeah…I met them when they were running away from home. They just wanted to be free and experience life. They were young, expecting, and were named Adam and Eve…” He let out a soft chuckle, placing his left hand over his right shoulder to squeeze it gently. “I figured it was a sign of some kind.” 

Crowley watched Aziraphale for a moment, just taking in the sight of the other man. He was radiating warmth that brought a smile to Crowley’s lips. “What happened to them?”

“They got an apartment, got themselves together, and had a pair of twins.” Aziraphale leaned back in his chair, turning his eyes back to the ceiling with a dreamy look on his face. “They own a house now and have had two other pairs of twins. They’re expecting another child, and Adam is excited since he’s finally getting a baby girl.”

Crowley chuckled at the other man’s words. “No more twins?” He asked, taking another sip of his wine.

The artist shook his head at the question. “Nope. Eve is happy to finally have a break from it and it’s been her easiest pregnancy so far.”

Crowley’s eyes drifted to Aziraphale’s left arm. “Where’s the snake that tempted Eve?”

Aziraphale let out a soft airy chuckle. He sat back up and swung his chair to show his left arm. “That little trouble maker will be going on the other arm, but I haven’t settled on a design yet.” He lifted his left arm, showing it off to Crowley. There were leafage and flowers inked onto his left forearm, but there was a patch of bare skin that wrapped around his arm. “It’s going to wrap around to the top, filling in this space, but I haven’t picked out the details.” Aziraphale explained, his finger tracing the bare skin.

“Sounds like it’s going to be awesome.” Crowley grinned. “You should make it black. The snakes are always black in the story.”

Aziraphale nodded at Crowley’s suggestion. “That’s true…” The blond pulled his eyes away from his inked arms. “You’re not wearing your sunglasses…” He said, seeming to have just noticed for the first time tonight.

“Huh?” Crowley’s hand went to his face, his fingertip brushed underneath his right eye. “Oh, yeah…” He spoke slowly, suddenly feeling naked somehow.

“Your eyes are lovely…why do you hide them?” Aziraphale spoke with a soft gentle tone.

“I-um…” Crowley turned his eyes down at the rug covered floor. “I don’t like them…” He patted around his jacket, trying to find the sunglasses he always carried.

His brown eyes were so light that in most lighting they looked yellow. He hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with them when he was a kid, but society had proven they weren’t right. Kids would make fun of him, his father would take him to doctors to diagnose a problem that didn’t exist, and even one of the nuns from his old church had been convinced he was possessed by a demon and telling anyone who would listen.

“Oh…well, I think they’re pretty.” Aziraphale said with a gentle tone.

Crowley stilled, his hand freezing just over his jacket’s pocket that held his sunglasses. The light blush on his cheeks grew into a deeper shade of red. “…Thanks.” He picked up the nearby bottle, only to find it empty.

“Another?” Aziraphale held up another unopened bottle, one of the remaining two.

“Yes please…” Crowley held his glass out, stretching his arm to reach closer to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale opened the bottle, reaching to fill Crowley’s glass. The redhead pulled his glass back to him, taking another sip while Aziraphale refilled his glass. “When did you start yelling at plants?” He leaned back in his office chair, turning his head so he was looking at the man across from him.

Crowley let out a chuckle at Aziraphale’s question. “It’s a bit of a long story…” He took another long sip of his wine and leaned back into the loveseat.

Aziraphale smiled back at the other man, batting his eyelashes. “I’ve got plenty of time…”

Crowley pressed his lips before letting out a sigh. “Get comfortable, I’m probably going to start rambling…” He warned the other man before taking another long sip of his wine, draining it to half of what it once war.

“I got in trouble a lot at school.” Crowley began simply, looking at the glass in his hand. “Went to a little Old Catholic one run by some harsh nuns and I had made friends with a group who I thought were so cool. They weren’t, but I had become a part of the group so I was stuck with them. I couldn’t just find new friends.” He stopped to take another sip, swallowing it with a harsh gulp. “One of them, Luci, dared me to go into the garden one of the nuns loved and “cause some trouble” because why not? She had been working on it for years and planted this apple tree when she first joined the sisterhood years ago. It had just started producing fruit and she was so proud of the tree that she wouldn’t let anyone take an apple from it.”

“I didn’t see why it was such a big deal, it was just an apple, so I decided to try to steal an apple from the tree. It was all going well, but right as I was picking the stupid thing Sister walks out and caught me. She lost it, screamed bloody murder, gave me detention for a whole month, and made me take care of part of the garden.” He stared at the remaining dark red wine in his glass. “The part she put me in was struggling. All the plants were wilting, just dancing on death’s door. She told me if I could help the plants get better she’d let me out of detention sooner. I don’t know why she’d make a deal like that but I was excited by it and went right to work to try and get the plants better.”

He brought the glass back to his lips, tilting his head back and gulping the remaining liquid down.

“She taught me some basic plant care, but that wasn’t helping the plants and she wouldn’t tell me anything else about caring for them. I ended up researching it on my own, learned about fertilizer, looked into the needs of each plant, and put everything I learned to work. Two weeks into it, the plants still weren’t doing well. I was pissed. My friends were teasing me about it, Sister Cecilia wasn’t helping me at all, and I was fighting with my old man a lot at the time. One day I just snapped and started shouting at the plants, called them any name I could think of, threatened to set them on fire, and just took every bit of anger I had stored up out through screaming at the plants.”

Crowley’s voice grew softer as he continued along with his drunken tale. “The next day Sister Cecilia pointed out that the plants had started doing better. She made a joke about me scaring them into doing better before letting me head home as I was free from detention. I never had to go back to the garden after that, but I ended up going to it a lot.” He continued, staring down at the empty wine glass in his hand. “I was trying to stay out of trouble, but it always seemed to find me. Normally it was caused by Luci…” He sneered at the mention of the troubled youth he had once called his friend. 

“I ended up in the garden a lot, screaming at plants, and calling them anything I could think of. Sister Cecilia caught me doing it a lot, but never stopped me. I think she liked how well her plants started doing because of me…” Crowley continued, growing quieter as he continued to speak. He stared into the empty glass. He was so tired. He didn’t want another drink. He wanted to sleep. Everything, his body, his eyes, his chest, was so heavy.

“Are you okay my dear?” He heard Aziraphale ask, but Crowley couldn’t bring himself to focus on the other man.

“Yeah, yeah, I just…I need to close my eyes…” He set the empty glass down on the floor, slowly drifting down onto his side.

He felt his heavy eyelids close and he couldn’t find the strength to reopen them as the darkness came over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading through the chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. I am sorry once again for the delays and I'm sorry but I won't be making any promises of updates soon. I'm not giving up on this fic, I won't let myself do that, but it's going on the back burner along with all my personal projects. It will be worked on, slowly, but surely. I'm not giving up on this fic at any point. Thank you again for reading and sticking with me, I hope that you enjoyed and it brought a little bit of happiness to this world full of madness. 
> 
> And here's just my little PSA before we leave: Please be nice to the essential workers, wear your masks if you have them, and listen to the medical professionals, please.


End file.
